Safe and Sound
by NobleLandMermaid
Summary: **Double Update!** Jim is enjoying a quiet meal at his grandfather's Ponocos cabin when a curly haired stranger named Pam comes by... Set in the universe of A Quiet Place, mostly free of movie spoilers, though some plot elements are borrowed. Crossposted to MTT
1. Day 124

**1\. Day 124**

During his time at Penn State, Wednesday was Mac and Cheese day for Jim Halpert. It was the one day of the week when the dining hall never seemed to have anything edible and none of the restaurants around campus offered any good deals. So Jim made it a weekly tradition of sorts to make some Kraft dinner and season it with swiped condiments until he had something decent. The tradition continued after he graduated and got a real job, and having a regular paycheck meant he would spring for the pricier boxed mac-and-cheese and take the time to dice some vegetables to add in.

This Wednesday it was nothing fancy, he brought the water to a light boil on the stove at his grandfather's one-room Pocono mountain cabin. He added a tablespoon of salt to the water, had to make due with olive oil in place of butter for the sauce (a little powdered milk helped ensure it was nice and creamy) and cooked the noodles until they were soft with just the tiniest crunch.

It was only mid October but he could already feel the chilly air seeping in from the small kitchen window. He would have to figure out soon how to better insulate. On the counter-top sat his portable CD player, a reminder to find some more batteries. Maybe he'll try the old General Store down the road in the morning. Or maybe this afternoon, it wouldn't be dark for a few hours and he didn't have anything else to do today.

Once he strained the macaroni and mixed in the sauce, he spooned a generous helping into a wooden bowl and turned to the table with a thick quilt in place of a cloth. He was about to set his bowl down when he eyed the front door and decided the warm mac and cheese would be best enjoyed in the cool Autumn air.

His sister loved autumn. Jim always much preferred summer growing up, he'd go to basketball camp and swim lessons, catch fireflies and eat all the ice cream his mother would allow him to. But autumn was Larissa's season, she played in the leaf piles until her cheeks were red, made cocoa with far too many marshmallows and wore the same knit sweater every day until Mom would all but pull it off her to clear it. And Jim was pretty sure Larissa looked forward to Halloween more than Christmas, every year wearing a costume more elaborate than the last and coming home from trick-or-treat with her bucket filled to the brim.

Larissa would have loved this autumn day here at the cabin, with the cool and crisp air and the light rustle of the wind through the trees.

But Larissa died 85 days ago. 39 days after the world ended.

It was a couple weeks into June, right in the middle of Jim's season. He had a barbecue going in the backyard, Arcade Fire blaring in the living room and friends enjoying beers and bean bag toss and good company. That's when Larissa came through the patio door, pale and shiny eyed, telling Jim to come look at the news.

The images were a couple hours old from the Great Lakes area, unsuspecting newscasters in Milwaukee and Chicago reporting on animals attacks before they screamed and their feed cut out. Then it was helicopter footage of busy downtown streets with large and fast shadows running down the sidewalks, SWAT teams shooting before being cut down or dragged into alleyways.

With cellphones pressed to their ears, all of Jim's guests rushed home and soon it was just Jim and Larissa watching the map of these "unidentified animals" (no one would say monster or even alien) sightings grow while frantically calling their family. By eleven p.m., their parents had arrived at Jim's and reports were coming in from Indianapolis and Madison. By the next morning morning, St Louis, Minneapolis and Cleveland. At noon, a sighting in Pittsburgh.

All the stations went silent by the time it was dark, black screens with blinking information: _National Alert: Mass attacks by animals of unknown origin. Seem to be attracted to sound. Do not confront animals. Stay indoors and stay quiet._

One of the two sets of string lights on the porch lit up. White. Jim stopped chewing for a moment and trained his eyes and ears on the forest. He had set the sensor about 100 yards down the trail to the main road. It was mostly set off by what he figured were deer and squirrels passing through, nine times out of ten whatever tripped it didn't make it to the second sensor.

He took two more bites and chewed slowly, and the other set of lights lit up. Red.

He set down the bowl and his wooden spoon beside it on top of an old towel and stood tentatively. It was far too long between the sensors to be a silencer, as Larissa had called them, which meant it was a forest critter or a person. Right inside the front door was his grandfather's old crossbow and Jim grabbed it and held in his hands across his chest. It was just a precaution, he had only actually shot an arrow a handful of times, always towards deer that were dangerously close to knocking something over and making a clatter.

He thankfully never had to shoot towards another human, the few humans encountered since he arrived at the cabin were just passing through, would ask for a few spare cans of food and be on their way. Though he certainly wished he could have a chance to fire a couple warning shots over the head of his last visitor, a short man his age with dark hair and downturned blue eyes. It was an unusually cold day about three weeks back and Jim let him come inside and heated up a soup to share. The man wrote down his name was Howard (Jim was sure that wasn't actually his name), spun a few tale tales about how hard he fought to protect his girlfriend from the silencers before they got her (Jim could more easily picture him hiding frozen in fear) then took a couple cans and a hand drawn map Jim made with directions to the next clump of cabins and set off. Only at some point "Howard" had swiped the key to Jim's shed and in the night came back, clearly with an accomplice, to take all the cans they could carry, useful supplies like his tent and sleeping bag and, what made Jim the most angry, a package of Little Debbie cakes Jim would treat himself to every once in a while.

He was clearly not over the "Howard" incident, getting angry all over again while recalling it and nearly missing the figure coming around the last tree on the trail before the cabin driveway. Jim tensed up, gripping the crossbow tighter and the figure stopped and raised their hands.

It was a woman, average height with reddish-brown hair. Judging from the condition of her clothes and backpack she hadn't been been on road too long, a few days maybe. She waved, pointed to him and then spun her index fingers around each other. He was confused for a moment before inhaling sharply, realizing she was asking if he knew sign language. He bent his fingers on his right hand, tapped his forehead and then held out his hand with his index finger and thumb close together, like he was pinching a marble. "I know some."

She nodded and stepped closer, with her fingers gathered she touched her chin and move her flat palm in a circle over her chest, "Can you spare me any food please?"

He looked down the trail for a moment and made a circle with his hand, index finger extended, "Are you by yourself?" She nodded. He slung the strap of the crossbow over his shoulder, motioned to her to stay there and walked inside. From his kitchen stash he grabbed a beef and mushroom stew and some green beans (neither his favorite so he was okay parting with them) plus a bottle of water.

He returned to the front door and found her in the same spot. She saw the cans and smiled, signing "Thank you" before carefully slipping off her backpack and opening it. One by one he handed her the cans and water and she wrapped each in a piece of clothing so they wouldn't knock into each other.

She stood and signed "thanks" once again and Jim felt his breath catch a little. From the porch all that really stood out were her frizzy curls loosely held back in a ponytail. But now that he was close up he could see she was younger than he thought, with a smattering of freckles across her nose and big, pretty green eyes.

"Do you want some food now? I made some lunch," Jim signed, or at least he hoped he signed something like that, he hadn't actually used sign with another person since Larissa.

"Yes, please. Thank you," she signed back. She approached the steps and without Jim asking began taking off her thin-soled tennis shoes. For a moment Jim thought about telling her to take a seat outside and he would bring her a bowl, lest he have a repeat of the "Howard" situation. But something about her made him trust her (not that the 'something' was a great mystery to him), and beside he now kept a combo lock on the shed, so he motioned for her to follow him in.

She carefully shrugged off her coat, unwound her striped scarf and took a seat at his table. Jim filled the other wooden bowl he had with macaroni and placed it in front of her with a spoon. She smiled, now barely whispering with her signs, "Looks delicious" and took a bite. With a satisfied smiled, she gave Jim a thumbs up.

Jim watched her eat, carefully but also voraciously, and lifted his hand up. "I'm Jim," he signed, finger-spelling his name.

She nodded and brought up her hand to spell out, "Pam."

Jim smiled, and then brought his hand together to started a question, "How long have you been alone out there?"

She took her final bite and set down her spoon. "About a week," she whispered while signing "week." She began her own question, "Where did you learn sign language?"

Jim gave a lopsided smiled and stood to fetch something from his book collection in the living room area, walking back with a yellow-covered book, _Signing for Dummies_. Pam covered her mouth to let out a silent laugh, and Jim was both pleased he amused her and sad that he couldn't hear her actually laugh. His most valuable skill had always been his humor, especially at his job before as a paper salesman. He'd yack all day and make clients laugh and suddenly he had convinced them to up their order by 20-percent. Sometimes he found it kind of funny, how his life had been so dependent on talking and laughter and now was all about being silent and still.

"It was my sister's idea to learn," he signed.

"Is she around?" Pam signed back but from her face Jim suspected she knew the answer. He shook his head and she bit her lip. "My sister is gone too," she signed.

Jim nodded and then asked where Pam learned to sign.

"The people I was with, one was hard of hearing and another was a special needs teacher, they taught us all," Pam signed and whispered, and Jim was happy he was mostly able to keep up with her signs.

"So why are you on your own?" Jim asked.

Pam's face fell and she stared at her bowl a moment before shrugging, "I couldn't stay."

As much as Jim wanted to ask what on earth that meant, he slowly stood instead and ask if Pam wanted another helping. She nodded and Jim walked around the table to take her bowl.

They finished up the mac and cheese (and Pam taught Jim the sign for cheese, which was something like grinding the palm of your hands together) and after a little conversation Pam stood. "I should go, find shelter before sunset," she signed, then started winding her scarf back around her neck.

Jim gave his bearded face a scratch and watched her. Probably a dozen people have passed through his little patch of the Poconos in the last few months, and he never really thought or felt anything as those passerbyers left his cabin, other than a hope they'd find shelter quickly and that maybe they'd be there if Jim was passing by and needed assistance. But as Pam gathered her stuff, he for the first time felt hesitance in letting a visitor go.

He stood and waved his hands to get her attention. She looked at Jim's with wide eyes and a little smile and Jim couldn't find his words for a minute, either in sign or English. "You know, it's getting cold at nights, and I have plenty of extra blankets," he mouthed, only able to sign about half the words. He took two steps to the living area and motioned to the couch, "We can pile them until it's comfortable."

Pam walked over until she was right next to him. "That's really kind but it's okay, you've done so much to help me already," she whispered.

"Stay here tonight and tomorrow I'll go with you and help you find a place," he signed, holding his breath as Pam looked around and assessed the cabin. Beyond the kitchen and living area there wasn't much, shelving on the wall lead to a half opened curtain that divided off the bed in the corner. But if his whole family could spend long weekends here without too much complaint surely two people could be comfortable.

"I don't want to trouble you," she said.

"No trouble," he whispered back, "unless you snore."

She suppressed a laugh and then her eyes met his. "Okay."

Jim grinned and crossed the cabin to his bed, kneeling to pull out a few blankets from under it. He shuffled back and Pam helped him unfurl the quilts and blankets and set one on top of each other until it looked something like a make-shift day bed.

"Voila, better than an Econo Lodge," Jim whispered.

Pam nearly laughed again and shook her head. "What did you do, before?" she signed.

"Salesman," Jim whispered.

Pam nodded, "I bet you were good at that."

Jim gave a half grin and shrugged, and she let out another silent chuckle and turned to set her things down by her new bed. He didn't want to admit it to her but he was happy to have someone around for a little bit, especially someone like her who smiled readily and was easy to talk to, even with his limited sign language ability.

But he already longed to hear her laugh, and hoped maybe sometime he would get to. He bet she had a nice laugh.

* * *

 _ **a couple notes before we continue!:** this story will have some descriptions of gore and injury, so far they aren't graphic but I'll include a warning if they do become more explicit, there may also be a rating bump later so make sure to follow so it doesn't disappear into the FFN M-rated zone. For the latest updates and lots more JAM come check out mttjustonce dot net_


	2. Day 125

**2\. Day 125**

Her dreams were often filled with music.

A common dream she had was her in the gymnasium of Scranton High, mid-90s pop hits blaring and a tall, blue eyed boy looking down at her with a dimpled grin. Sometimes she was in an art supply shop, a symphony by Beethoven or Mozart (her ear wasn't quite tuned enough to hear the differences) playing while she painted, each instrument solo becoming a different color on the canvas.

In this dream she was in a misty wood, a tinny guitar (or maybe a banjo) playing in the distance. She walked toward the music, but every time she thought it was close it would move behind her. A hand grabbed her arm, a male voice both familiar and unfamiliar said her name and she spun around.

Pam's eyes popped open to a wood-paneled room and stone fireplace and it took her a moment to regain her bearings. She was back in a music-less world, in a cabin that belonged to a Jim, former salesman and mac & cheese lover. She lifted her head and looked in the direction of his bed, through the half-open curtain she could see his figure still sleeping soundly. She lay her head back down on the pillow and gazed through the window outside. She wondered what time it was before remembering keeping time was all but useless now, better to just develop a feel for how long the sun had been up and how long before it set. In this case she estimated it had been up for a couple hours.

* * *

It was a warm evening when it all started, the sun still high up in the summer sky, at least two hours away from setting. Roy was off with his brother and some coworkers for a guys' night and Pam was in the parking lot of her favorite drive-thru burger place for dinner. There was something freeing about biting into the greasy cheeseburger and sipping on a creamy chocolate milkshake, especially without any snide comments from her fiance about making sure she puts in extra time working out or that maybe she should size up on her wedding dress. Nevermind that Roy had put on a good twenty pounds in the last year from his weekly poker nights, or that she would need to have a wedding date to work with before considering actually buying a wedding dress.

But it didn't really matter if she decided to have a burger and milkshake tonight, because there wasn't going to be a wedding dress and Roy was never going to make another cutting comment that made her feel bad for days. Because a suitcase was in the back of her car and her engagement ring was on the kitchen table.

Her phone rang and when she saw it was him she hit silent and continued enjoying her burger. But then a call came from Roy's sister Trish which was odd so she answered. Trish told her to get to a television or radio and Pam changed the dial until she came across frantic sounding newscasters talking about mysterious creatures roaming the Midwest and seeming to attack everyone in their path.

Trish said Roy and his brother were on their way to her place and insisted Pam come also to see how this all played out. Pam didn't really answer, just said she needed to make some calls and see what was happening with her parents and sister. Once she hung up, she sat in the car for a few moments and let the news droned on.

A text came came from her sister Penny, saying she and Pam's parents were at their hotel in Syracuse (where Pam's dad was attending a conference and Penny was checking out graduate programs) and were okay. After that the network was clearly overloaded and no calls Pam attempted were going through. Pam took a deep breath, started her car, and turned out of the parking lot in the direction of Trish's.

* * *

There was soft rustle behind her and she lifted her head to see Jim finally awake, sitting on the side of his bed stretching. She sat up and suddenly felt self conscious about her hair, running her palm over her head to smooth down any lumps. She looked back over and saw him give a little wave. "Good morning," he signed, "how did you sleep?"

"Not bad," she signed back. Jim smiled and walked to the kitchen. He picked up a can of fruit cocktail and showed it to her, indicating they should split it. She nodded and watched him carefully position the metal opener on the lip of the can, then put a thick dishcloth over both can and opener and squeeze until there was a quiet, dull pop. Pam was impressed with his patience and caution as he turned the handle on the can opener slowly until he could pry the top open enough to pour out the fruit into two bowls.

As they ate the sweet slices of fruit, Jim swiped his hand across his forehead, the beginning of a sentence, "I forget the sign for-" he pointed to "fruit" on the can.

Pam set down her spoon and thought for a moment, "It's, um-" she mouthed, then made a pinch with her index finger and thumb and brought it to her face in a back and forth motion, like she was twisting a screw into her cheek. Jim repeated the sign and Pam nodded. She then pointed to "cocktail" on the can. "And this is-" she made a gesture that looked like she was throwing back several shot glasses of liquor.

Jim's eyes widen. "Really?" Pam smiled. "That's some cocktail party," he whispered and Pam had to stifle a giggle. She let herself looked at him for a few seconds while he returned his attention to his bowl of fruit cocktail. He had such wonderfully expressive eyebrows and hazel-green eyes, she imagined even before it was easy to look at him and know exactly what he was thinking without any words. She wondered if they would have been friends had they met in more normal times, something about the end of the world had made Pam befriend people she didn't much care for otherwise. But she had a feeling she and Jim would have been.

Once they finished the can of fruit, Jim told her his plan to go down to the general store for a supply run and asked if she wanted to join him and grab whatever looked useful for her to before he helped her find a place. Her hands fiddled nervously, twisting an invisible ring around her finger and she chewed her lip, memories of the last supply run she went on flashing in her mind. But she steeled herself against the images and gave Jim a smile and an "okay" sign.

* * *

It took her three tries to finally knock on Trish's door. Trish answered and pulled Pam into a quick hug before letting her in. She was not quite two years older than Roy, tall and blond with the same sky blue eyes. Pam rather liked Trish, she got all the care and compassion that Roy and his brother Kenny lacked. One place the compassion came into play was with their mother, Susan. When Pam and Roy started dating end of sophomore year, Susan learned she was gradually losing her hearing. In response, Trish, who was in college to become a teacher, switched her focus to special needs education, and she was the one who convinced Susan to take sign language courses by attending them with her. When interacting with their mother, Roy and his brother depended more on talking louder or making sure they enunciated clearly since Susan was good at reading lips, but neither made much effort in learning sign.

Roy was with the rest of his family in the living room, eyes fixed on the television and the increasingly harrowing reports of unidentified animals easily breaking through lines of officers in SWAT gear and attacking crowds. Roy gave a quick friendly "Hey Pammy" and Pam knew he had not managed to get home this evening. She had no idea if she was relieved or not.

When the reports started coming from new cities, Susan was the first suggest they all head up to the family lake house in Pocono Pines. Trish helped interpret her signing for the family, saying Susan had a feeling this was going to get much worse before it got better and she'd rather be up in the mountains than stuck in Scranton.

The family packed their cars with clothes, canned food and anything else that seemed useful and set off. They decided the more vehicles the better so Roy's parents took their car, Trish and her husband took another and Kenny went with Roy in his truck. This left Pam alone in her little beat-up sedan and suddenly in the same position she was just a few hours ago. As their convoy sat at a light, Pam looked at the intersecting street. She could turn and be on her way to her parents place in Doylestown, like she had initially planned. Just as Pam was noticing how busy the street was for late evening, her phone rang.

"Hey Penny," Pam answered.

"Oh my God, Pam, where are you? Are you okay?"

The light turned green and Pam followed Roy's truck. "I'm, um, I'm with Roy's family right now, we're heading to the Poconos." Pam heard just breathing and she sighed, "I know, I know, I should be at Mom and Dad's right now like I discussed with you, but this all started happening right when I was about to leave and-"

"No, no, it's - it's actually good you're with them. Um… listen, Dad has been getting calls and texts all evening -" While their father wasn't in the military, his company handled many defense contracts so he had a lot of connections in his circle of acquaintances. Penny's voice cracked a little, "Pam, this is really bad. No one knows how to stop these things and they're moving so fast. They think they'll reach Philly in 24 hours."

Pam hated hearing her little sister on the verge of tears, and her own eyes started to sting. "Well, where are you guys?

"We're just outside Syracuse and heading to Fort Drum right now. Dad's filling up the car. I'm suppose to be staying calm but so far that's failing."

Pam turned her head and faced north, "Should I be heading there too?"

"No, Pam, Dad had to pull every the string he had to get the okay to go there with me and mom, I'm not even supposed to be telling you we're going there. And like I said, they are at a loss of what to do, You're honestly better off in the Poconos." Pam head a voice in the background and Penny's muffled voice say, "Yeah got a hold of her." She came back on the line, "Here's Mom, I love you.

Pam's mother Helene came on the line and started her best motherly reassurance that things would be fine even though Pam could tell from her tone her mom was far from convinced they would be. Pam passed a sign for Mount Pocono and she sniffed, "I was gonna finally do it, Mom, I was gonna leave. If I were braver I would have done it a long time ago-"

"Pam, you are so much braver than you realize," Helene quickly said. Pam's chin trembled and then there was more talking in the background, "Sweetie, we need to get going. I love you, stay safe."

Pam's dad came on the line with a couple quick comments about being very cautious and staying with people she trusts and once they all said their goodbyes and 'love you's it was silence in the car and nothing in her vision except Roy's tail lights.

* * *

Pam stayed about five feet behind Jim, watching his feet and being careful to step around every leaf and twig he avoided. It made the journey probably twice as long as it would take normally but Pam didn't mind, the weather was nice and she felt her cheeks warm every time Jim shyly looked back to check on her.

They reached an intersection with a small cluster of buildings and Jim lead the way to the one with an old fashioned pharmacy sign. The shop door had clearly been opened with a crowbar but otherwise the place was surprisingly intact with tidy aisles and mostly stocked shelves. It was almost like Jim's own personal store.

Pam stayed near Jim as he browsed the shelves, grabbing first aid supplies like bandages, gauze and antiseptics. They then ventured to the hardware section, where Jim would point to things like a can opener or rope and she'd nod that it would be useful. The next aisle had tape and stationary on one side and a magazine section on the other. While Jim compared different duct tape rolls, Pam's eyes fell onto a fashion mag with a beautiful blonde actress smiling back at her. She unconsciously lifted her hand to her chest, twisting the chain around her neck between her fingers.

* * *

Pam didn't care for supply runs with Roy and Kenny. They always walked too fast and gave her a hard time for not being able to haul as much as they could. But Roy's father George had bad knees, Trish needed to stay with Susan and Trish's husband Matt typically got "guard" duty, so it was usually Pam and the Anderson boys trekking to Mount Pocono for food and any needed, portable supplies.

This run was going like any other except while they combed through the supermarket, a car alarm went off nearby. The three stood frozen watching the windows until they saw a monster in the distance.

Pam hadn't actually ever seen one. She had heard them of course, had heard people around the lake house scream briefly before silence. And she had seen the aftermath, bodies of people and animals in pools of dried blood with chests ripped open. If there was any mercy it was that it seemed like a quick death.

The creature moved across the parking lot so fast it was hard to even say what color or size it was, roughly as tall as a man while on all fours with no fur. Little was reported about them before the airwaves went silent, just that they appeared to be blind but more than made up for it with a highly acute sense of hearing. Within seconds of it running by, the distant car alarm became distorted then stopped altogether.

Kenny signed, "We need to wait here a while." Pam nodded in agreement and Roy rolled his eyes but started carefully setting down his backpack. All three slowly sank down until they sat on the floor, keeping an eye on the front windows. Near Pam's hand was a fashion magazine with the bottom half of its cover missing, Pam knew she was familiar with blond actress but could no longer name her off the top of her head, it had been only three months but felt like years since she cared about anything like movies or makeup tips. She started twisting the ring on her left hand. When they reached Pocono Pines, she successfully lied to Roy about the actual location of her engagement ring, saying she must have left it in the bathroom at Trish's. After their first supply run, Roy presented her with this new, far too large ring, and Pam felt she had no choice but to wear it.

A half hour passed and the trio decided that was enough time for the monster to clear out, so they resumed filling their backpacks. Pam walked by Roy kneeing and stuffing his pack, outlines of cans clearly visible through the nylon. She walked over and got his attention. "That's way too full," she signed.

"It's fine," he replied, "I can handle the weight."

Pam could see several washcloths he brought from home next to him, "Why aren't you padding everything?"

Roy sighed and got to his feet. "There's plenty of padding in there, and this way I can get more cans in." He lifted the backpack and Pam felt her heart stop when Roy started to shake it. But it made hardly a sound, and Roy just grinned. Pam put on a terse smile that she dropped the moment she turned away from Roy and walked to the door.

They started their return journey, Kenny in the front and Roy behind Pam, walking down the center of the street. Pam's mind wandered and she wondered what possibly set off that car alarm, if they had allowed enough time for the creature to leave, and what the hell was the name of that actress on the magazine cover.

Suddenly, there was a loud metallic clatter right behind her that echoed through the silent street. Pam froze and she knew before she turned around what she was going to see. Roy stood about ten feet behind her with a dozen cans rolling around his feet, a couple more falling out of a rip in the side of his backpack.

"Run," Pam signed, but Roy wouldn't move. He just stood, more cans continuing to fall out of his backpack, and looked straight into Pam's eyes. Pam signed "Run" again more desperately, but Roy only let out a soft scoff.

"I guess you were right, Pammy," he said aloud.

Pam breath grew shaky and behind Roy she could see something coming down the street towards them incredibly fast. There was a tug at her arm and Kenny all but dragged her several yards until they reached a car. He pulled Pam down behind it just as Roy let out a horrible cry. Tears streamed hot down her cheeks and her hands were clamped over her mouth while Roy screamed for what seemed like a hour but was really a few seconds before silence.

* * *

A hand softly touched her shoulder and Pam gasped and snapped her head to the figure next to her. Through her blurry vision she could see Jim, his eyebrows raise in worry. "You okay?" he mouthed.

Pam took an unsteady breath and nodded over-emphatically, and while she knew Jim was skeptical, he just gave a small smile and signed they should head back. Once he turned away, she wiped her eyes and her nose and followed him out the shop door.

When they returned to the cabin, Jim carefully unfolded a map of the area and spread it out on the kitchen table. With a pencil he marked where his cabin was then started pointing out where Pam's best bets of finding suitable shelter would be. Pam watched him study the map and chewed the inside of her cheek. She couldn't stay with the Andersons any longer for several reasons and was so sure she just wanted to be alone, but right now she was trying to think of a single good reason to leave here and coming up short.

"What if," she started whisper, "I … stay here a bit longer."

She felt anxious as Jim looked at her with knitted brows, then an amazing sense of relief when he smiled. "Well, if you thought that couch was suitable, I guess you can stay," he whispered back.

"It was okay, could use a few more blankets though," she signed and mouthed, and felt pleased with herself that she was finally the one who made Jim give a stifled laugh.


	3. Day 152

**3\. Day 152**

His dreams were often as silent as the world was now.

A frequent dream he had was him walking through a wood with absolutely no sound, no matter how many leaves or branches he stepped on there was no crumple or snap. Whenever he had this dream he would just walk and walk until he woke up. But this dream something grabbed him by the ankle, causing him to freeze in panic. On the ground was a young woman, her dark hair was matted with leaves and dirt and blood. There were deep claw marks across her check and neck, exposing the muscle and fascia and tendons.

The woman's mouth didn't move but her voice was clear in Jim's ear. "You didn't protect me."

"Larissa," he said weakly, surprised to hear himself. He knelt and grabbed her ice-cold hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You couldn't protect me." Her voice was louder now, her blue eyes boring right through him. "And you can't protect her."

Jim felt the tears steam down his face, then heard a woman's voice call his name in the distance. He tried to stand but Larissa's hand held firm. The distant voice grew more desperate and Jim tried to twist out of Larissa's grasp but she just held on and stared, her voice now a scream.

 _"You can't protect her!"_

Jim sat straight up, his breath heavy and his heart racing. His bed was all but a pool of sweat so he got up to grab a towel from the shelf. He peeked over to the couch and saw a mess of curls and Pam's chest rising and falling slowly. The sight of her sleeping so soundly made him fell calmer and he took a few deep breaths until his heart rate felt normal.

She had been there nearly a month, the notion of her going off to find a different place to live somehow never got readdressed and Jim was not about to be the one to bring it up. Jim looked in his pantry and decided today would be an oatmeal day, so he grabbed a bottle to hold water and carefully walked to the front door and down the steps until his bare feet hit sand.

It was Pam's idea, she said the place she was at before was on a lake and they brought sand from the shore and made pathways around the house to allow everyone to move quickly and silently. Much of the last month was spent on Jim and Pam finding sand and bringing it back to the cabin until there were neatly formed pathways around the cabin and to the shed. They had even started on the trail down to the main road.

That was about all Pam had told him about her time before she found his cabin. Occasionally she'd mention something and he would have another piece, he knew that the people she was with definitely were not family, but they weren't strangers either, they were people she knew from before. He wondered what on earth could have happened that would make her want to leave and venture on her own. But he said nothing out of the probably irrational fear that if he pried, he'd find her gone the next morning.

Next to the shed was a couple large water tanks that the two of them had been spending time filling with iodine treated water from the nearby stream. With winter approaching Jim didn't want to depend on only found bottled water, and with a second pair of hands he was able to get tanks up to the cabin and start serious water storage. He lifted the lid carefully and dipped the water bottle into the tank.

He strongly suspected her group was attacked, possibly when venturing for supplies. He couldn't help but notice her anxiousness when they were about set out for the store, he always suggested she stay but she would go with him regardless. On their runs, he would catch her fiddling with the chain around her neck and staring at nothing in particular. He so wanted to ask her where she was, but settled instead on doing his best to keep her there, ask her questions and practice sign and just never leave her alone with her thoughts too long.

He certainly understood not wanting to relive the memories. He had told Pam about his family but spared the details, he didn't tell Pam about the sickening pop when his mother twisted her ankle wrong as his family was fleeing Scranton, or about his father refusing to leave her side, yelling at Jim and Larissa to just go. He didn't tell Pam how he couldn't even look back when he heard the yell that had to be his father as the silencers got him. Nor had he told her about holding his sister's hand, slick with her blood, whispering "it's okay" to her until the light left her eyes. Even if he could speak of all this aloud he's not sure how he would. So, yes, he understood Pam's caginess.

After breakfast, they planned out their day: first a trip to the stream to fill and treat some bottles of water, and next head to an old irrigation ditch shored up with sand bags and fill their sacks with as much sand as they could carry back to the cabin to continue their trail making. These two things would occupy them for most of the day until dinner and some sign language practice. Jim quite enjoyed sign practice with Pam, she had explained a big part of signing was facial expressions. Typically emphasis was portrayed more with the eyebrows than the hands; furrowed to express a question, high on the forehead to show excitement, one eyebrow arched to display skepticism. And Jim would be lying if he said he didn't find Pam absolutely adorable making all her exaggerated faces. But mostly he enjoyed just having Pam there, it made him feel a contentment that he hadn't felt in a long time.

* * *

The first time Larissa and Jim went on a supply run they hiked all the way to Tobyhanna. It had been five days since they fled Scranton and Jim knew he was in a haze, too often in his head about his parents and about what he should, could, would have done to save them. Larissa frequently had to tap his shoulder to get him to refocus and even started pulling funny faces until she got a tepid smile out of him. But mostly he was going through the motions and following Larissa's lead. On this supply run, they passed the library which like most of the buildings had been broken into. Larissa motioned her head towards the building and Jim followed, careful to step around all the glass when they walked in. Larissa clearly had a mission, going up and down the aisle with an intent look on her face. Jim meanwhile just browsed, looking at book spines but not really registering anything until Larissa tugged his arm and led him to the hallway. She pointed to a sign reading "Recording Booth" and smiled at Jim before carefully opening the door.

The booth was tiny, just fitting the two of them with a sound board taking up the rest of the space. Larissa slowly closed the door then turned to Jim and showed him the books in her hands. "What do you think?" she said in a low voice. Jim's eye traveled over the book titles, _Beginners' Sign Language, American Sign Language Course, Signing for Dummies_. "It would be useful," Larissa added.

Jim shrugged, "Yeah, sure." Larissa nodded and turned, and Jim assumed that was the only question she had and they were leaving the booth, but instead she set the books down on the soundboard and turned to face him.

"Jim, I know we just lost them but you can't do this now," Larissa said softly.

Jim's brows met, "Do what?"

"That thing you do where something bad happens and you retreat into yourself."

He wanted to deny it but Larissa was spot on, he knew he had a tendency to cut himself off from the world when he lost something. He remembered, and was sure Larissa also remembered, him just hanging out in his room listening to old records for at least two weeks straight after his favorite grandmother died when he was a sophomore in high school. Only thing was he couldn't have done anything about his grandmother, but could have maybe done something about his parents.

"I could have carried Mom," he said in a whisper.

Larissa shook her head, "No, you couldn't. They would have just gotten you too."

Jim looked down at his shoes.

"You have to let them go," Larissa said, "We'll remember them and love them of course but you can't carry this around."

Jim looked up to Larissa, "And how do I do that?"

She smiled a little, "Crying is a good start." Jim let out a terse laugh. "I'm serious, cry, let yourself feel helpless, angry, sad. It won't all go away but you'll feel lighter."

"Little hard to do that surrounded by monsters that hunt by sound," Jim said sardonically.

"Too bad you're not in a soundproof booth right now," Larissa said in an equally mocking tone.

Jim couldn't help but laugh a bit, if nothing else, little sisters were good at calling their older siblings out. His smiled faded and he stared at the gray soundproofing walls.

Larissa took his hands in hers. "It's not your fault."

Jim's chin trembled and the tears immediately filled his eyes.

"Let them go," Larissa said and Jim let out a sob. His shoulders started to shake and Larissa pulled him into an embrace. Though he was a good six inches taller than her for the first time he felt smaller than his little sister, his tears dripping down his chin into her shirt. "It's okay," she whispered, her arms holding him firmly even as he convulsed. "It's okay."

Jim cried until the tightness in his chest started to ease and the tears finally stopped coming. He stood and wiped his cheeks with a handkerchief and finally looked at his sister's shiny eyes.

"How do you feel?" she asked with a sniff.

He took a few deep breaths and gave her a half grin, "Lighter."

* * *

After they carefully cleared dried leaves and twigs from a length of the trail, Jim untied the sack in his backpack and flipped both over to pour sand on to the pathway. Once sand was on the dirt, Pam began evening out the piles, pushing the granules with her hands to widen the path and smooth the edges. Both of their backpack empty, Jim joined her up the trail, crouching down and running the edge of his hand over the soft white sand. He looked at Pam, who was very focused on the pathway, and then dipped his finger into sand, dragging it in a half circle then making two quick pokes until he had a smiling face. Finally Pam lifted her eyes to his and smiled, then took her finger and added a couple fangs to the smiley face and two angry eyebrows. Both let out soft chuckles and Jim saw in the corner of his eye Pam reach up to her chest.

He resumed pushing and smoothing the sand with his palms, until Pam waved to get his attention. Her eyes were widened slightly and her brows were worried. "My necklace fell off," she signed.

"When did you have it last?" he signed and mouthed and she replied she had it that morning. This meant it could have been anywhere between the trail, the cabin, the stream where they fetched water that morning or the ditch where the sandbags were.

"I'm sorry, I have to find it, you keep working," Pam signed before getting to her feet.

Jim motioned for her to wait and pushed himself up from the ground. "We'll both look, cover more ground." He slipped his arms though his backpack straps watched Pam bite her lip, her eyes getting more worried before she nodded. "What does it look like?" he signed. All the times he had noticed her fiddling with something around her neck he had never gotten a good look at what kind of pendent it was.

"It's a gold unicorn," she signed, finger-spelling 'unicorn'. "My sister gave it to me when we were kids," she quickly explained with red cheeks, and Jim wondered if someone before had teased her about her unicorn charm.

"We'll find it," Jim signed with a nod and was happy to see some of the worry leave Pam's face.

They walked up the trail, Jim keeping his eyes focused on the right side and Pam on the left, and once they reach the cabin, Jim suggested he retrace their route to the ditch and Pam head towards the stream. Pam agreed and set off west while Jim went north.

Though he tried to keep up an optimistic attitude around Pam, as he walked down the half-dirt path Jim had no idea how they would ever spot a gold necklace among the yellowed grass and dead pine needles. He walked slow, scanning both sides of the trail, but when he reached the ditch he still hadn't seen anything. Jim sighed and shook his head, then looked at the pile of sandbags and figured he may as well fill his bag and make the trip worth while.

Crouching in front of the pile, he unfurled the end of a sand bag and lined the opening up with the sack in his backpack, maneuvering the sand bag so it would pour slowly. Jim glanced to the ground and a gleam caught his eye, and once his backpack was full, he turned and reach down into the grass. When he pulled up the gold chain by one end, the charm slipped right off, and he cursed silently before carefully pushing aside the grass. The little gold unicorn landed almost like it was standing up and Jim smiled, thinking of something silly he could tell Pam like how it tried to gallop away.

Slipping the charm and chain into his coat pocket, his eye flicked over the grass again and another gleam caught his eye. He reach over, his finger getting pricked by pine needles before touching something cold and solid. It was a gold band with a clear stone shining in the sun, and though to Jim it seemed too large to be for Pam's delicate fingers, especially her ring finger, Jim knew there was nothing else this ring could be for.

Jim walked down the pathway, unable to stop fussing with the ring in his pocket. After a month of trying to put all the pieces of Pam's past together, the picture was becoming a little more clear. Pam must have been with her in-laws before, and something must have happened to her husband. Did they blame her for what happened and turn her out? Did she blame herself to the point that she couldn't face them anymore?

There was no sign of Pam back at the cabin. Jim figured she was still thoroughly combing the pathway to the stream so he left his backpack and headed west.

Of course he couldn't deny feeling a tiny bit of jealously as he rolled the ring between his finger, curious to know who this man was that had Pam's affection, that got to hold her hand and play with her curls and kiss her and ...

He saw another flash of gold, this time in the form of the afternoon sun hitting Pam's hair, and he finally pulled his hand out of his pocket and buttoned it. She was walking along the stream, her eyes so focused on the ground that she didn't notice Jim walk up until he was practically next to her. Unable to resist psyching her out a little, he gave a shrug as if asking if she found anything and she responded with a head shake. With her eyes back on the ground, he slipped his hand back into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. He held it out and Pam's face snapped up to his, eyes wide and shiny. She covered her mouth briefly then signed "thank you" before carefully pinching the charm and the chain. The link by the clasp had broken, and Jim mouthed that they'd fix it or maybe find a new chain.

Pam stood, smiling at the little unicorn and Jim took a breath. Much as he didn't want to, he outstretched his hand and opened it to reveal the ring. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at his palm before looking to him nervously and taking the ring.

Jim cupped his hands slightly and dropped the right one onto the left. "You were married?"

Slipping the necklace and the ring into her pocket, she brought the finger tips of her right hand together, make a circle and then tapping her left ring finger. "Engaged. His name was Roy"

"Were you with his family before you came here?" Jim signed and Pam nodded. "What happened to Roy?"

"Supply run," she signed. "Cans fell out of his backpack onto the street and..." Her chin trembled slightly and she looked to the ground.

When Pam looked up again Jim signed his next question. "Why did you leave? Did his family make you?"

She shook her head emphatically, "No, they were very kind to me, but..." Jim urged her to continue with his eyes and she lifted her hands again. "Things were complicated with him. It's ... it's a little hard to explain."

Jim watched her eyes gaze down the stream and felt her start to drift somewhere else again, like she did on so many of their supply runs. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "The most important thing is we found your horse necklace," he signed slowly.

The corner of Pam's mouth lifted and she put the back of her hand to her forehead, her index finger outstretched, then moved her hand forward. "Unicorn," she whispered.

Jim narrowed his eyes. "You made that up just now," he mouthed.

"No, that's what it is," Pam signed back, making the sign again for emphasis and then smiling widely.

Jim laughed silently and tilted his head back towards the cabin, making a C-shape with his hand and pulling his hand down over his chest, "You hungry?"

Pam nodded and they started heading back to the cabin, Jim with a small smile on his face.

* * *

Since their first dinner together, Pam would say, or sign rather, a simple grace, take Jim's hand for moment and bow her head. She explained once that she wasn't very religious, but saying grace felt like a good way to express gratitude for getting through another day. Jim agreed, and while also never very religious during grace he would silently express thanks for the day and pray for a safe day tomorrow.

Seated at the kitchen table with two bowls of chicken dumpling soup in front of them, Pam reached her open hand towards Jim. He looked to her and signed that he would like to say grace tonight. She stared at him a moment before smiling and nodding, and he took a breath and started to sign.

"I'm grateful for this food and for another good day. I'm grateful we found Pam's," he smirked at Pam and raise his hand, index finger out, to his forehead, "unicorn necklace." Pam let out a chuckle. He took another deep breath and began to whisper very softly along with his signs. "Please look over those we have lost, please grant us the strength to forgive ourselves for losing them and also grant us the strength to let them go. Amen."

The smile had faded from Pam face and her shiny eyes were looking at nothing in particular before snapping back to Jim's. She mouthed "amen", reached out her hand again and lowered her head.

Jim took Pam's hand but kept his eyes on her, and could see the tears bead in the corners of her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. Her chin trembled and she covered her mouth. Jim's grip on her hand tightened until she looked to him with red eyes. "It's okay," he said. She nodded, letting out a few silent sobs before inhaling and exhaling deeply. Jim kept her hand in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. _Please grant her the strength to let go_ , he prayed silently. _Please grant me the strength to protect her. Please, let me protect her.  
_

After dinner, Jim was able to fix Pam's chain with a pair of small pliers from his grandfather's toolbox, and Pam threaded the unicorn charm back onto the necklace and fastened it around her neck. Jim finally got in his lame joke about not letting the unicorn gallop off again, and Pam rolled her eyes but also broke out into a smile. While replacing the pliers in the toolbox, Jim watched Pam walk to her backpack, slowly unzipping the front of it and then slipping the engagement ring into a pocket.

She stood and turned and Jim returned his gaze to the toolbox, watching out of the corner of his eye Pam sit on the couch and pick up a paperback from the coffee table to start reading.

She seemed lighter, and Jim smiled to himself.


	4. Day 193 Part 1

**4\. Day 193 Part 1**

She often dreamt of memories. The people and places were usually familiar, the feelings very strong and real. She would dream of being a child running barefoot in the grass, laughing and chasing after a pair of blonde pigtails and feeling nothing but freedom and joy. She would dream of a hospital, her grandfather's frail hand in hers and feeling the pain and heartbreak of loss.

He was often in her dreams, memories both sweet and bitter. She'd dream of his blue eyes shining while he kissed her in the cab of his pickup, scarlet colored tassel hanging from his rearview mirror, and felt the rush of excitement and nervousness when his hand stilled over her sweater buttons and she nodded yes. She'd also dream of those same eyes, red and wild as he shouted at her in the kitchen, and felt fear when the bottle flew past her head and hit the tile backsplash, felt the sting of small almost undetectable cuts when a mixture of beer and tiny glass shards pelted her.

This dream was different, it felt like a memory but everything about it was unfamiliar. It was misty and the noise was so thunderous she could hardly hear herself think. The ground under her feet felt unsteady and she shivered a little in a silky, sleeveless white dress. But a solid figure was at her left side allowing her to lean slightly, an arm around her shoulder was keeping her warm. There was a flutter in her belly that should have felt weird but somehow only felt wondrous. She looked back to the figure behind her, the sun was behind their head so she couldn't see who exactly it was but somehow she knew they were smiling and that makes her feel safe and warm.

Her eyes opened and everything was quiet again, and the warmth she felt from her dream quickly dissipated. Although the winter had been mild so far with little snow, it was near freezing every night and her corner of the cabin was next to a large window and drafty fireplace that she and Jim didn't dare use. So she slept in an extra sweater and had added another quilt to her couch-bed. Jim once offered trading off, have her sleep in the bed some nights while he took the couch, but she knew he would hardly be comfortable trying to fit his lanky frame on the couch and insisted she could manage fine.

There was of course another option: both of them sleep in the bed. They would certainly be justified doing that for warmth, it didn't have to mean anything other than that. She thought about suggesting it on occasion and one evening very nearly worked up the nerve to ask, but then she caught a glimpse of him pulling off his sweater and when his undershirt rode up, her eyes instantly fell onto the dark line of hair running down from his naval (Penny once called that the "treasure trail") and Pam instantly decided against asking to share the same bed.

No, what they had, this friendship and partnership, was peaceful and good and she didn't want to ruin it by misinterpreting any of it as something else. Besides, while Pam knew Jim cared about her, she was pretty sure he saw her as something like a sister, a second chance to protect his poor dear Larissa.

Pam stood up to stretch, glancing at Jim still asleep in bed. She stood and walked to the window to take a glimpse outside; a layer of frost covered the forest but there was still little snow on the ground, whatever hadn't melted was in easily avoidable piles. The sky was blue and it looked like good weather for what she had in mind for today.

She looked over to Jim's corner again and saw him on the edge of the bed, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. He gave her a sleepy smile and she smiled back and watched him walk to the kitchen, looking away when he unconsciously reached under the hem of his thermal tee-shirt to scratch his stomach.

(She flashed on a vivid memory of lying on her bedroom floor flipping through a teeny bopper magazine with her sister, Penny pointing to the chiseled stomach of some nameless heartthrob and giggling wildly as she explained why they called it the "treasure trail")

Pam turned to see Jim carefully boiling water and setting out two mugs. He held up a box of tea and box of cocoa and smiled broadly when Pam pointed to the cocoa. Before sitting down, Pam walked to the calendar Jim kept in the kitchen and pointed at tomorrow, Christmas Day. Jim nodded and Pam lifted her hands. "What are you going to get me?" she signed. Jim knitted his brows and tapped the box of cocoa, and Pam held in a laugh.

After sipping on their hot chocolate for a bit, Jim signed he was thinking about going down to the shops on the main road. Though she invariably went with him, he seemed to always ask out of some sort of obligation if she'd rather stay at the cabin, and she waited patiently for him to sign the question. "You up for it, or you want to stay here?"

"Actually, I have a couple things to do here today," Pam replied.

Jim looked at her with raised brows, "You do?" Pam shrugged and Jim watched her for a moment, reaching up to scratch his bearded chin, "Okay, I can stay and help-"

"No, I'm okay, you go to town," Pam signed. Jim continued to have a skeptical look on her face and Pam smirked. "I promise I won't steal your stuff. You're stuck with me now, at least until spring."

That finally got him to smile, albeit weakly, and he mouthed, "Okay."

With backpack and crossbow slung over his shoulder, Jim descended the porch stairs and then turned back to Pam. He smiled but when she looked at his eyes they were full of worry and she also started to feel an unease, this was they furthest apart they were going to be from each other since she first arrived. "Stay safe," he signed emphatically, and Pam nodded.

"Of course, you too," Pam signed back and Jim reluctantly started down their sand trail, looking back a dozen times before finally disappearing from view. She waited a moment, then walked to the shed and unlocked it.

On the back shelf of the shed was a fishing net and tackle box. She gingerly set the box on the floor, ran a finger over the engraved "D.H." on the lid and opened it up. There were dozens of little compartments filled with flies and hooks and Pam pulled a couple rags from her pockets, tucking them into the box in an effort to insulate it. With the handheld net on her shoulder and the tackle box in her hand she set off for the stream.

Though life was now silent and full of death and fear, Pam learned to appreciate a few things about new world. One was the stars: no light from the cities or highways meant the nights were dark and the skies came alive, what once were dim dots in the sky were now vivid constellations, she could even now see the streak of the Milky Way on a clear night.

One was silence itself, from the age of 17 she spent a good portion of the summers with the Anderson at their lake home, classic rock always blaring from a boombox on the beach, Roy and Kenny talking trash to each other riding their wave-runners and various other motorboats rumbling by. Only when it was silent was she able to appreciate just how beautiful the lake and lake home was. And now she was able to truly enjoy the forest, to meditate on the sound of the babbling stream and rustling trees.

Another positive was fish, with no boats or fishermen invading their habitat, the fish in Lake Naomi were large and plentiful. Pam was pleased to see the same was true of the stream by the cabin. She wandered downstream until it widened slightly into a sort of pool, and could see unsuspecting trout in the clear cold water.

One of the few times Roy exhibited restraint and patience was when fishing. Roy struggled more than anyone with the silence when his family and Pam were setting up their new lives at the lake house, his very presence was loud and overpowering. He was stubborn about learning sign, often writing his correspondence down or even trying to speak in low whispers often, and also constantly annoyed with how slow everyone had to move. Not long after they arrived, he slipped his hand under Pam's nightshirt one evening and started palming her breast, his mouth licking and nibbling her earlobe, his foreplay had never been subtle. She gently pushed his hand away and turned her face to him, saying between potential noise and potential pregnancy it was too risky, and seemed to successfully kill the mood even if he flipped away from her in frustration.

But for whatever reason he was able to stay quiet and still when fishing, and was also surprisingly patient with Pam when she tagged along to learn. He showed her the knots to use, the best way to move a hand lure to attract fish, and was even encouraging when the most she caught for the first few sessions were tiny yellow perches.

Pam had good luck at the stream, with her hand lures she caught a couple bluegill before a beautiful rainbow trout practically swam into her net. That was more than enough for her and Jim so she packed up and returned to the cabin. She cleaned the fish on an old picnic table next to the porch and then went inside and started preparing a pot for broiling the fish and another for a pack of seasoned instant rice she swiped on her and Jim's last supply run.

At Lake Naomi her biggest catch came a few weeks into her fishing lessons. After many tiny perches and broken lines she finally caught a big meaty walleye and nearly squealed in excitement. Roy made his way over with the hand-net to hold the fish, and out of glee and happiness Pam grabbed his collar and gave him the most heartfelt kiss she had given him in a year. He responded with a big dimpled grin and suddenly Pam thought maybe she could do this, maybe she could actually, genuinely want to be with him again.

But the same evening when the walleye was cooked and everyone was paying their compliments to Pam for catching it, Roy was quick to say how much he helped catch the fish, quick to mention how many got away from her before she even managed to catch a sizable crappie. He had made and she had brushed off a thousand comments like that over their near-decade together, but every one was another tiny cut, another little sting. When they went to bed, Roy was clearly still thinking about the kiss at the lake and pulled her into him, lips on her neck and fingers playing with the band of her pajama bottoms. She rolled away from his grasp and claimed she had a stomach ache.

The string of lights hanging from the ceiling lit up white and Pam turned down the stove-top and walked to the door. The lights turned red after a moment and Pam held her breath, her mind unable to not worry that perhaps something else was tripping the motion sensors. But then she saw the tall figure and smiled, rushing back to the kitchen to set up the table.

Setting down his crossbow by the door, Pam looked up to see Jim take a breath and smiled. He waved his hand like he was wafting the smell towards his nose and ran his finger along his chin, "That smells delicious."

Pam grinned and placed a fish filet on each wooden plate. "How was it?" she signed.

Jim smiled and shrugged, and Pam took that to mean his run was unremarkable, which was the best kind of supply run.

After he cleaned himself up a little, Jim took a seat next to Pam. She sat up a little straighter and lifted her hands to say grace, "Thank you for this food and for a safe supply run. We are grateful and continue to pray for good fortunes. Amen and Merry Christmas."

Jim smiled and took Pam's outstretched hand. She bowed her head but stole a glance at him, his eyes close tight and his lips silently speaking some kind of prayer. _Please continued to keep us safe_ , she prayed, _please continue to keep him safe._

She had been plotting this nice Christmas meal in her mind for a few weeks now and her efforts paid off, Jim smiled after every bite and would sign "so good" and "delicious" often. She knew it wasn't quite that good, but after months of overly salty canned food made of all sorts of interesting textures, the fresh trout was pretty damn tasty.

With everything cleaned and stored away, Jim thanked her once again and Pam smiled. "So did you get me something on your supply run or what?" she whispered.

Jim gave a half-grin and a gleam was in his eyes. "Wait over there," he signed, motioning to the couch.

Pam eyes widened, and she crooked her index finger and ran her close hand over her other index finger, "I was kidding, you know"

Jim just shrugged and took his backpack to his bed, closing the curtain behind him. Pam twisted her finger together while walking to the couch, no idea what to expect once Jim drew back the curtains. Did he go on the supply run just to find something for her? She started feeling guilty for all her teasing and that Jim would take a risk like that.

There was a soft whoosh of the curtain and Jim walked over and sat on the couch, on his lap was something "gift-wrapped" in his scarf tied with a shoelace. He handed it to her and she ran the shoelace between her fingers. "Just what I wanted," she whispered and he chuckled. She pulled the lace and the scarf came open. It was a leather bound sketchbook, an elastic band inside held some pencils, and sharpener and an eraser. Under the sketchbook, a travel set of watercolors.

"These were in the Bird Watching section of the outdoors shop, if you can believe it," he whispered. Pam looked to Jim, her jaw slacked and he lifted his brows and brushed his chest, bringing his thumb and middle finger together. "You like it?"

She nodded. "How did you know?" she whispered.

Jim smiled, "You doodle all the time, and you said something about watercolor."

She couldn't believe it, she vaguely remembered saying she liked watercolor but it was an offhand comment weeks ago. Her eyes stung, and she looked at Jim and took his hand. "Thank you."

"Merry Christmas, Pam," he mouthed.

She smiled and reached up to wipe her eyes, her gaze falling on a card Jim was clutching in his lap. His hand obstructed it, but her name was clearly written on the front. She looked up and saw him take an unsteady breath and felt her own heart start to beat faster.

His face was suddenly lit up by a warm color and they both snapped their heads to the string lights, red. Jim looked back to her, and now her heart beat faster for a much different reason. Why did it go straight to red? Jim's eyes rounded and he stood slowly, leaving the card on the table. Pam placed her new gifts on the couch and followed behind. They froze in place when there was a scream in the distance. It sounded like a man and Pam blinked, her mind returning to the streets of Mount Pocono, hearing the final cries of Roy and the sound of cans rolling on the street. A whistle brought her back to the cabin, and through the front window she saw a firework up over the trees, red and green lights in the late afternoon sky.

When Jim reached for his crossbow, Pam felt a panic and grabbed his shoulder. "We can't go out there," she signed.

"The silencer probably followed the firework, and someone might need help," Jim replied.

Pam moved her hands quickly, "If they're seriously hurt, we can't help them. And the silencer will get us too."

"Then you can stay here, I'll be careful."

Jim took a step towards the door and Pam stood in front of him. The thought of anything happening to him made her chin trebled. "Please, wait a little while at least."

Jim looked out the window, "We'll listen for 10 minutes, if we hear nothing then I'll go out there."

" _We'll_ go out there," Pam corrected.

He started to shake his head, but then his gaze fell on her set jaw, then up to her eyes which refused to look away from him. The corner of his mouth lifted and he nodded.


	5. Day 193 Part 2

**5\. Day 193 Part 2**

They listened carefully for any sounds and in the process could see the sun begin to set. Pam did her best to push the fear back and take a moment to admire the beautiful pink and gold light shining through the trees. Even before it was ten minutes, Jim started arranging a pack by the door, slowing putting a first aid kit, plenty of bandages and a flashlight. Much as Pam wanted to beg for another ten minutes, she knew Jim wouldn't let this go, so she put on her coat and scarf, and picked up a flashlight to make sure it worked while Jim loaded his crossbow.

They stuck to their sand trail at first, walking to the spot where Jim had set up his red-light sensor. Pam looked on either side and pointed out a branch that looked recently snapped off a couple yards off trail, a likely sign that something had just barreled through fast. They stayed on the trail but kept their eye on the left side, continuing to find broken branches and snow drifts with odd footprints.

Well passed the white-light sensor, Pam nearly ran into Jim when he stopped in his tracks. The sun was set now, so Jim made the sign for "light" by flicking his chin. Pam pulled out her flashlight to illuminate the scene and quickly covered her mouth to conceal her gasp. It was a man, nearly their age, chest ripped open and the ground around him soaked with his blood. When Pam moved the light passed the body, there was a distinct trail of crumpled leaves and displaced pine needles heading into the forest, a dark glistening trail of blood running through the middle.

Jim looked to Pam. He didn't sign or mouth anything but his question was clear from his eyes and Pam reluctantly nodded. He took each step with great precaution, slowing setting his foot down and avoiding all the leaves and twigs he could. Pam followed behind with the flashlight, doing her best to step in each of Jim's footsteps. They walked in this fashion for maybe twenty paces, when Jim stopped again and Pam peered around his torso.

Leaning against a tree was another man, like the body behind them this man looked to be on the shorter side with dark hair. He was alive, breathing shallowly, and Pam figured he must have been the one who managed to get off the firework. But not before the silencer got in a gash, his whole right side was covered in blood. Once he lifted his eyes to Jim's face he let out a scoff and weakly gave a salute with his left hand. Jim turned back to Pam leaned in to whisper, "It's that jerk who stole half my supplies three months ago."

Now Pam was the one scoffing. Jim had told her all about this man, Howard she believed it was. The body behind them must have been Howard's accomplice and the reason he was able to make off with so many of Jim's things. What were they doing tonight? Coming back to try to steal more?

Jim set down his crossbow taking care to point it away from everyone and knelt at the man's side. "We meet again, Jimmy," he whispered. Jim seemed to ignore him and slipped off his pack to start digging around. Pam stood over Jim with the light and Howard tilted his head and looked Pam up and down. "Wow, and here I've been stuck with Troy the troll for six months."

"Stop talking," Jim whispered. Pam could tell he was doing his best to not act irritated. Jim pulled out a gauze compress and gently lifted Howard's arm and pressed it to his stomach. It was hard to tell exactly with his coat but Pam could see Howard's arm was limp, the cuts extremely deep.

Howard nodded to Jim's crossbow on the ground. "If you really want to help me, shoot one of those arrows into my brain," he said in a low voice.

Still ignoring Howard, Jim looked back at Pam and she knelt at the Howard's left side to hold the gauze in place. While Jim dug through his backpack more, Pam looked to the compress, the blood already seeping through. She chewed the inside of her cheek and watched Jim. She admired him for trying, she truly did, especially with a man who had wronged him. But even if they could get Howard back to the cabin quietly, even if he didn't lose too much blood, his wounds would likely be infected, his arm would possibly need to be amputated.

Jim turned with more gauze and a bottle of antiseptic and the wounded man looked at Pam with unfocused blue eyes. "What's your name?" he mouthed. Pam said it in as low of a voice she could, her mouth feeling dry. "Pam, I'm Ryan." Jim paused for a second and Ryan smiled, "Yeah I lied." He turned back to Pam, "You know he's wasting his time too, don't you Pam?"

Pam's shook her head quickly and Ryan chuckled.

"It's okay, don't feel sorry for me, I was an asshole before they came and not much better after."

"You need to stop talking," Jim whispered again, more forceful this time. He started pouring the antiseptic onto the gauze, but Pam put her hand on his and nodded to the dressing Ryan's stomach, completely saturated with blood. He took a breath and swallowed hard, and when he looked back at Pam she knew he had finally realized they wouldn't be able to save this man.

"You're a good guy, Jim, hold on to that." Ryan's eyes flicked to Pam and he smiled, "Hold on to her." He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "I think you should run now."

Pam quickly got to her feet and when Jim looked up to her, she brought her hand to her mouth, rounded as if she was holding an invisible ball, and then motioned away. "He's going to scream."

Jim's eyes widened and he stood, grabbing his pack and crossbow. Pam took one last look at Ryan, whose eyes were open now, before turning and running behind Jim.

They were halfway back to the sand trail when Ryan's wail started to rip through the forest and then just passed Ryan's poor friend Troy when the yelling stopped. Jim dropped the crossbow, grabbed Pam's arm and pulled her down behind the nearest tree. He squatted in front of her, his right arm braced against the trunk, his left under Pam's arm, holding her waist. Her right hand was on his shoulder, gripping his coat tightly, and her head was on his chest. Moving his arm from the tree trunk, Jim reached back to grab the flashlight in the side pocket of his backpack. He flicked the light on and pointed it into the forest.

There was a distance snap of a branch and not ten yards from them the silencer came into view. Pam gripped Jim's coat tighter and he pulled her into his chest. The creature walked through slowly and oddly on all fours and was close enough that Pam could see movement of some sort on its head, like plates fanning out to catch more sound. It took a step towards them and Pam screwed her eyes shut, unable to breath.

Somewhere beyond the silencer, there was a rustle of leaves and a flock of small birds flew into into the air, their trilling and warbling immediately catching the silencer's attention and sending it crashing off into the woods.

They remained frozen for a few moments, Pam's cheek was pressed so closely to Jim she could feel his heart racing even through his coat. Slowly, Jim's embrace loosened and he sat back on his heels. "You all right?" he signed.

Pam nodded and pointed to him, "Are you?"

Jim gave a firm nod and got to his feet, offering Pam his hand. Once he retrieved his bow, they returned to the sand trail and soon were back at the cabin.

Without much discussion they warmed some water and each took turn washing up in the small restroom. Pam went first, brushing a few pine needles out of her hair and pressing her face into a warm washcloth. Once Jim was in the restroom with the door shut, Pam walked to the couch, picking the sketchbook Jim had just given to her up off the seat, opening it up and thumbing through the pages. She recalled the card in his hands earlier and had a vague memory of him setting it down on the table but when she looked nothing was there.

Jim emerged after a few moments, his face clean and beard trimmed up. "I think I'll lay down, unless you need something," he signed.

 _Wasn't there a card,_ she nearly asked but instead she just shook her head. "No I think I'll go to bed also."

Jim watched her for a minute then smiled, "Goodnight, Pam."

She stared at the curtain in front of his bed long after he disappeared behind it.

Though she was exhausted, her mind was stubbornly not letting her sleep, constantly playing the images of Troy and Ryan in the woods, of the silencer's leathery skin and moving ear plates. She opened her eyes tried to focus her thoughts on the stars outside the window, but could only think about cold coming in from the fireplace. Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked to Jim's corner of the cabin, the curtain in front of his bed half drawn. She bit her lip and threw off her many quilts.

His eyes were closed but she could see he was still half-awake, his hand on an old Discman and cords running to his ears. She touched his shoulder and his eyes popped open. "What's wrong?" he signed after tugging the plastic buds out of his ears.

Pam made a pinching gesture with both hands and moved them away from each other, "Nothing. I just- can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course," he mouthed. He wound the earbuds around his Discman and started sitting up but Pam stopped him.

"I don't-" she took a breath, "I don't want to be alone."

He studied her face for a moment before nodding and scooting over until Pam had room to slip under the covers. She felt him tense up a little when she curled into his side but after a moment he placed his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment. "I put us in danger, thinking I could save anyone."

Pam lifted her head, "No, trying to help was the right thing to do." Ryan was right, Jim was good, wanting to help others was part of that goodness and in this world he needed to hold on to that as tightly as he could.

"I'm just happy you're okay," Jim whispered. He looked at her for a second and took a deep breath, "I'm... I'm happy you're here, Pam."

Pam smiled, "I am, too." She lowered her head to his shoulder, and the memory of her lame joke earlier about Jim being stuck with her ' _at least until spring_ ' started repeating in her head. "I'm not actually thinking about leaving in the spring, you know?" she whispered.

There was silence for a moment, then Jim replied. "I know."

The corners of Pam's mouth curled, and she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest until she finally drifted off to sleep.

That night she had the same dream as the night before, the same misty air and thunderous noise surrounding her, the same white dress and odd flutter in her stomach, the same arm around her shoulders. Only this time, when she turned back to see who was behind her, she could see his face clearly. And she felt completely safe.


	6. Day 260

**6\. Day 260**

His dreams had been peaceful for well over two months. They were often about quiet, boring things like cooking or walking to the stream. Sometimes he would dream of before, typically at his job in a button-up and tie making calls and filling out paper orders. The only change was the receptionist; it wasn't Ronnie, the middle-aged woman with a blonde bob-cut who Jim worked with for years, it was someone younger with a mane of curls half tied back. In his dreams he'd go up often to talk to the receptionist. He could see the pink sweaters on her slumped shoulders and hear her soft giggles but never could quite see her face. He found that part of the dreams strange and frustrating but at the same time, he was happy to be no longer waking up with a start.

Winter had come to the Poconos, while still mild there was enough snow on the ground and chill in the air that their days were spent mostly indoors. Jim was slowly but steadily going through the cabin's entire novel collection. His grandfather had left lots of London and Hemingway novels, his father lent old copies of Lord of the Rings, and the Jane Austen collection was his mother's. Surprisingly to Jim, his brothers (who he did not remember being big readers) had contributed quite a few books to the shelves. Jim reckoned a lot of them were old schoolbooks forgotten at the cabin, Soup and Me, My Side of the Mountain, Henry Huggins. But they had also left some Terry Pratchett and Stephen King novels.

One day when Pam was looking for something to read, Jim offered a King novel and she scrunched her nose and shook her head. "My life is a Stephen King novel now, I'm good," she signed and Jim grinned, she definitely had a point. She did however pick up one of the Anne of Green Gables books, Jim saw out of the corner of his eye her opening the cover and running her finger over the wobbly cursive "Larissa Halpert". Jim had forgotten how obsessed his little sister was with those books. He blinked and had a memory of some Halloween back in elementary school, everyone was dressed like superheroes and Disney princesses, Jim was halfheartedly Bill or Ted (he honestly didn't remember which). But not Larissa, she was in a puffy calico print blouse and a long smock over black tights and boots, two braided pigtails peaking out beneath a straw hat, proudly proclaiming at every house they trick-or-treated at that she was Anne Shirley. When Pam took the book and sat down on the couch, Jim smiled to himself.

When Pam wasn't reading, she was sketching. Jim's Christmas gift to her was coming to good use, she often had her watercolors out painting new portraits of birds and plants. The new year had started and she took down the calendar on the wall, flipped it and made new calendar pages, first with a winter painting of the cabin for January, then two colorful, cozy lovebirds for February. She would also insist that Jim sit for her and stay still while she sketched him. She flattered him in her portraits, he thought, drawing his hair so neatly, downplaying his big nose and putting lots of details into his eyes. After her last portrait of him, he pointed to her. "Will you make one of yourself?" he signed. She said she'd think about it, but soon Jim caught her working at the table with a mirror in her hand. She seemed very self conscious working on her self-portrait, sketching slowly and delicately and never giving Jim much of a look. He wondered if this was something artists had a hard time with, drawing themselves.

On sunny days they spend a little time outside. They kept the trail to the stream clear and would go every few days to fish. Pam impressed Jim with her hand lure skills, she tied them up with the fishing line and hooks from his grandfather's tackle box, and stood patiently on the banks until an unsuspecting fish would bite and they would get to eat well that night. One day she asked what the DH on the box stood for and Jim told her that was his grandfather Duncan Halpert, whose name was passed to him as a middle name. Pam revealed her middle name was Morgan though there was no special meaning for it, her mother just liked how it paired with "Pamela" and "Beesly". In his head he repeated her full name, _Pamela Morgan Beesly_. He liked it, it was soft and feminine and suited her well.

In addition to fishing they spent some time putting together emergency kits, spare backpacks with some clothing, a pair of shoes, knives, cans and first aid supplies. These kits were kept under tarps near the cabin in case they ever needed to flee. They also found some fireworks at the store down the road. Though it wasn't enough to save his life, Ryan did have the right idea carrying a firework as a distraction for a silencer and now there were several bags with fireworks and matches stashed away in various nooks in and around the cabin.

Jim was sure the banality of his dreams had something to do with the sleeping arrangement. After the evening with Ryan and the silencer, Jim understood why Pam asked to share the bed but assumed it would be only until the shock went away. But no, two months later without any hesitation or questions she came to the bed every night and curled up under the covers. Now he woke up to her by his side. The first thing he would do was turn his head and make sure she was there. Sometimes she was facing away, her torso slowly expanding with every inhale, and he'd reach over and take a soft golden tendril between his fingers. Sometimes she was facing him, her hands curled under her face and crescent of eyelashes resting on her lightly freckled cheeks.

A few times he woke on his side facing the window and she was right behind him, her head resting on his shoulder blade, her arm snaked under his and her hand pressed to his chest. He would sometimes place his hand right beneath hers, his thumb touching to her pinky in hopes she would move her hand over his, and his mind would fill with images of her maybe putting her hand on his shoulder and gently rolling him towards her, of her pushing herself up until she was above him, her curls loose around his face and her beautiful green eyes getting closer and closer. But while he daydreamed she would roll away, maybe she was still asleep, maybe she was a little awake and embarrassed about being so close. Either way the spot on his chest where her hand had been would get cold too quickly.

One day in mid-February, he woke sometime in the very early morning, the sky still dark and air still cold. He lay awake for a while before standing and fetching the Discman from his backpack. In the moonlight he could see the silver player had plenty of battery power and he returned to bed. He felt the disc whirl in his hand and a soft organ intro started playing in his ear. Jim preferred Death Cab's previous album, but his copy of that was somewhere in his bedroom in Scranton and the tiny CD shop in Tobyhanna he and Larissa raided on of their runs happened to have _Plans_ so he grabbed it. The melodies and Ben Gibbard's soft tenor voice played on and Jim flipped to his side, only to find Pam facing him with her eyes open. Jim wasn't sure what to do, should he ask if she was okay, apologize for waking her? But before he could do anything she was reaching towards his face, and he held his breath wondering if she would do what he had thought of doing a thousand times, cupping his cheek and bringing her face to his.

Her fingers grazed his jaw and when he realized she was simply reaching for an earbud he felt embarrassed for thinking otherwise. But she moved closer so she could comfortably put the bud in her ear and Jim decided this wasn't so bad, it had probably been the better part of a year since she heard any music and he liked watching her listen to the music and smile slowly. The song faded into the next track, and Pam nodded to the melody of the acoustic guitar. The lyrics started and Pam's brows met at the singer's mention of his love dying someday. She looked to Jim, a "what the heck is this?" expression on her face and he smiled and shrugged. She smiled back but it faded as the lyrics went on:

 _If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied_  
 _Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs_  
 _If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks  
Then I'll follow you into the dark_

She reached up and pulled the bud from her ear, casually wiping a tear from her cheek and Jim immediately felt like an idiot for letting her listen to this song of all songs. He whispered her name and she shook her head and started to sign, "I'm going to try to sleep a little more." Jim nodded but chewed the inside of his cheek as she rolled away from him.

* * *

"Ugh, Jim, why is your music collection so emo?" Larissa said, sorting through Jim's CDs before putting then in a box. "There's not a single song on any of these albums you can actually dance to."

Jim gave Larissa a smirk while taping a box of clothes shut, he was finally moving out of his crummy apartment to a rented house with his friend Mark but left his packing to the very last minute. He managed to rope Larissa into helping him by promising pizza. "Why don't give me some of your old boy band CDs, Lis, liven up my collection."

Larissa shook her head, "Nuh-uh, you're dreaming if you think I'm giving up my _Backstreet's Back_ copy." She pulled another stack from the shelf and gasped, "Wait, you have the Gwen Stefani album?"

"Yeah that's … Katy's," Jim said, scratching the back of his neck, "Uh, leave it out, I have some other things to return to her."

"I'm sure she'd be okay with you keeping it so your music is not a total angsty sausage fest."

Jim knitted his brows, "'Sausage fest'? What would Grandpop say if he heard such language."

Larissa laughed, "He would say 'What's with all your sissy boy music, Jimmy, at least put on some Sinatra.'"

Chuckling, Jim walked over and took the case in his hands, "How about a compromise? I'll make a copy before I return it." Larissa smiled and turned back to the shelf, leaving Jim to stare at the colorful cover. He remembered Katy putting this album on in the car, her high school cheerleader skills on full display as she sang along to "Hollaback Girl". Initially Jim would be embarrassed but she was so cute and exuberant Jim found himself singing along and even spelling out "bananas" a few times.

That was really the extent of their relationship, for nearly a year she was cute with her big blue eyes and red curls and fun on dates and at parties (and Jim couldn't lie, in the bedroom as well) but Jim just went along with it, figuring eventually the feelings would develop past "attraction" at some point. When Jim's lease was about to end, Katy never quite said it outright but Jim knew she wanted them to 'take the next step' and find a place together. Rather than say he wasn't ready for that, or better yet be honest and admit he didn't see a future for them, Jim went and signed a new lease with Mark and tried to pass it off as some long-planned thing. Katy got the hint though, and last week told him she was done.

"Hey," Jim snapped his head up and found Larissa with her hands on her hips, "Where did you go, Jimmy?"

Jim shook his head, "Sorry, just thinking."

Larissa arched her brow, "Lemme guess, about a certain red-headed ex-cheerleader?"

Jim chuckled softly and looked back to the album, "Maybe I should have tried moving in with her. It may have worked out."

"Or led to a break-up that would have been ten-times worse," Larissa retorted.

"Mark called me an idiot for screwing it up, said I've never land someone like Katy again."

"Well, Mark is also an idiot so that doesn't mean much," Larissa said. "And yeah, Katy was very pretty and very sweet… and her favorite movie was Sweet Home Alabama."

Jim laughed, "Legally Blonde, actually. "

"I guess that's a little bit better but still, you had nothing in common. Living together wasn't going to change that. It definitely wasn't going to solve anything."

"I suppose you're right," Jim said, flicking the CD onto his bed.

Larissa picked up the case, "You remember Mom and Dad's 30th anniversary party? What Dad said about their first date?"

Jim half-grinned, "That by the end of their date he knew he was going to marry her someday?"

"Yes, he just _knew_ , and I'm sure someday you'll meet someone and you're just going to know."

Jim looked to his sister skeptically, "Well, here's hoping." He walked over to his desk and began stacking his books when a beat started playing from his stereo and Gwen Stefani's started singing a bunch of high pitched "na-na-nahs". He turned his head, "No, seriously?"

Larissa smiled while shaking her shoulders to the beat, "We can put on some whiny Bright Eyes bullshit after this." She sang along as Gwen mused about being a Rich Girl and Jim just smiled and turned back to his desk, although he did start tapping his foot. And a few minutes later he even joined in the "Bananas" chant.

* * *

It was the beginning of March, still cold during in the day but there were signs spring was coming. The snow had tapered off some and a couple wildflowers were popping up around the cabin. The song incident was two weeks behind them, it was awkward for the rest of that day (Jim later learned it happened the morning of Valentine's Day which made him feel even more like an idiot) with Pam mostly keeping to herself and not talking much during dinner, but that evening she crawled under the covers of the bed. Though he strongly suspected something deeper was going on, Jim decided it was best to let it be.

Now that it was a new month, Pam was working on a new calendar picture. She chose the cabin as a subject again but this time painted it in a springtime motif, surrounded by pink and yellow flowers and green trees. Before dinner, she pinned up the new calendar page, and Jim made a point of admiring it. He held his left hand straight up and brushed his right hand across, "Very skillful."

Pam smiled then raised her eyebrows, bring her hands up and flicking them out, "I finished my portrait." She grabbed her sketchbook from the table and thumbed to a pencil drawing. It definitely looked like her, Jim thought she made her eyes a little too worried and her mouth a little too down-turned, but he kept a smile on and waved his hand over his face, "It's beautiful." Pam blushed and Jim secretly wish he had a portrait of that expression, her small smile, sparkling eyes and pink cheeks. Maybe someday he will.

After dinner while their were cleaning up, Jim's eyes kept traveling over to the calendar. "I like the way the background fades," he whispered to Pam as she carefully dried the dishes. "If I were an artist I don't think I would know when I was finished."

Pam smiled, "I didn't always know either, but you just have to draw and paint a lot and eventually you just know."

 _You're going to just know,_ he could hear Larissa's words clear in his head. Jim had scoffed at his sister at the time but she was right. And really a part of Jim knew the day he met Pam. He ignored it for a long time, how could he think about things like the future when all there was now was survival, finding food and water and somehow getting to the next day. When everyone he loved had be taken away in the blink of an eye.

The card sat in the bottom of his backpack, he hadn't looked at it since Christmas but he remembered what he wrote and he still meant it, but for a combinations of reasons he was unsure about giving the card to her. Would she be touched by what he wrote or would she find it dramatic and rambling. And most of all, did she even feel close to the same way? Could she feel the same way, after seeing her fiance cut down in front of her?

He read and she sketched for the rest of the evening until they both started yawning and decided to go to bed. Pam fell asleep quickly and Jim watched her until sleep came over him as well.

* * *

The woods were misty and dark and Jim walked and walked but never seemed to get anywhere. He passed a tree and several yards in front of him was a figure in white facing away from him, golden brown curls cascading down her neck and back.

"You have to protect her." He turned and was startled to see Larissa, she was in a simple white dress, contrasted by her straight, dark hair resting on her shoulders.

Jim shook his head, "How can I? How can I possibly stop what happened to you from happening to her?"

"You have to." Larissa said. "You have to protect both of them."

Jim's brows met, "Both?"

"You can't protect her," Jim turned and there stood Ryan, his blue eyes somehow paler than before and his right side dripping with blood. "You couldn't save your family, how could you save her?"

"You have to protect them, son." He spun around when he heard the voice and there was his father, dressed in white with his arm linked with his mother.

"Mom, Dad?"

"What's the point?" Jim turned back and saw another figure had appeared, a man Jim didn't recognize. He was tall and barrel-chested with blue eyes as pale as Ryan's and claw marks down his chest. "No one can save anyone."

Jim shook his head and looked back to the woman in white in front of him. She turn to him and Jim held his breath, she was so beautiful with curls around her face and a satiny dress hugging her figure. She smiled and her arms circled her stomach, which Jim could see was rounded.

"You have to protect her, Jim," Larissa said again, his parents echoing her. They all looked off in the distance where Jim could hear something crashing through the woods. Jim started to run forward.

"You can't save her," Ryan and the other man called out.

Jim shook his head and kept sprinting. "Run!" he shouted but she didn't move. He could see the silencer now, heading straight for her. "I'm here, take me!" Jim yelled, but the silencer wouldn't change course. His voice came out a scream, "Take me!"

Everything started to move slow, his legs pumped but she was still too far away. She looked over to the monster then turned her head back, tears falling from her green eyes as she closed them. He reached out, his fingers so close to touching her, but all he could feel was a rush of air as the silencer's arm came down, all he could see was dark red against the white fabric of her dress.

"NO!" His eyes popped open and he sat straight up. His arm reached to the other side of the bed but it was empty and cold and he panicked, forgetting where he was and crying out "no" over and over.

He was so disoriented he didn't see Pam come out of the restroom, she sat on the bed and put her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she whispered.

Tears were streaming hot down his cheeks and it took his eyes a moment to focus on her in the dark cabin. When he finally could see her face he let out a gasp and pulled her into an embrace, he hugged tightly and ran his hand over her hair. "You're here, you're still here," he breathed. _I lost you, it felt too real_.

She lifted her head. "I'm here, you're okay," she whispered, reaching up to brush the hair of his brow. She cupped his cheek and wiped away his tears with her thumb, and he placed his hand over hers. "We're okay," she mouthed.

The string lights lit up white and just a couple second later red and they both stopped breathing. Still holding onto him, Pam turned her head slowly and they could a shadow in the front window. A floorboard on the porch creaked and the silencer started thrashing about, Pam buried her face into Jim's chest and he held her shoulder tightly as they listened to the splintering and cracking outside.

After a moment it stopped, Jim imagined the porch sufficiently destroyed and he watched the shadow leave the window. Pam slowly raised her head and when her eyes met his, she exhaled in relief. _We're still here, we're okay._ He smiled back at her, lifting his hand to push a curl behind her ear, his thumb stoking her cheek.

There was another creak and his eyes snapped up just as the framed picture of his grandparents taken in front of the cabin right after it was built, a frame that had been nailed to that spot on the wall for half-a-century, fell to the floor, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces. Pam's eyes grew to twice their normal size and she turned to see the twisted frame on the floor. Before she could turn back to face him there was a boom and a crack. One more boom and the door came off it's hinges and fell. Filling the entire doorway was the outline of a silencer.


	7. Day 261

**7\. Day 261**

She woke with her cheek pressed to his back, her arm under his and her hand on his chest. There had be a few times Pam had woken up in this position in the last couple months, but every time she rolled away, pretending she was still half asleep. This morning though she tightened her grip and pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade more firmly, she didn't want Jim waking up thinking he was alone again. It also helped keep her warm, even with several sweaters on the air was much too cold.

It was cold two mornings ago, but she didn't realize because when she woke Jim was right there, his deep breaths warm on her cheek. She turned her head slightly to watch him, his eyes moving fast under his eyelids. They never talked about their dreams but she suspected his were more often nightmares, she used to see him from the couch waking suddenly, sitting up and looking around with heavy breaths. But his dreams must have been more peaceful in past weeks. Even with the facial hair, he looked so much younger when he slept and she smiled imagining him as a boy, with floppy hair and jug ears and buck teeth.

But then the pang in her lower abdomen that she had been trying to ignore got stronger and she groaned to herself as she rolled out of the bed. There was one thing about all the monster and post-apocalyptic movies she had seen in her life: they mostly omitted the matter of going to the bathroom. When it was still warm she just held it and went outside first thing in the morning, but with the cold mornings and snow on the ground they used bedpans on top of the cabin toilet. She flipped on the small, battery powered night light in the bathroom and grabbed her pan. It should have awkward, the day they were on a supply run and Pam suggested they each bring home a pan, but Jim only made her nearly laugh by trying really hard to convince her to grab the pink one. Ultimately she went with blue. She urinated as quietly as possible, set her pan down behind the toilet and washed her hands with the diluted soap and water they kept by the sink. Looking in the mirror, Pam patted down her hair a bit and studied her reflection. She was never big on makeup but still kind of wished she had a little mascara and lip-gloss, brighten up her pale reflection. The portrait she drew of herself at Jim's request was more of a challenge than she thought. Drawing Jim was fun, he had those amazingly expressive eyes and the best smile she had ever seen. But trying to draw herself, she kept coming across as looking tired or worried.

"NO!" The scream almost didn't register as real. The voice was unfamiliar and she couldn't believe Jim could possibly make that noise. But when she turned the corner, there he was sitting straight up, desperately throwing back the covers and crying "no" again and again. She touched his shoulder and told him he was okay, assuming he had a bad dream about the death of his sister perhaps. But the way he looked at her then pulled her to him and whispered "you're still here" in her ear made the tears come to her own eyes quickly.

Neither of them thought about the obvious, that his scream of course attracted a silencer, but they were hopeful when it did come and destroyed the creaking porch that it was satisfied and left. But a crash of a picture frame and two loud booms at the door later, there it stood. It turned its head, the plates around its ears shifting and expanding. When it took a step it was right in the middle of the shattered glass from the frame, and like when it make a creak outside, it started thrashing at the floor. The creature moved so erratically that several things rattled in the kitchen and it turned it's attention to the shelves that were carefully stocked with their food cans and neatly stacked dishes. Pam was frozen in terror, covering her mouth and watching as it obliterated the kitchen shelves and the countertop. Jim's hand squeezed her shoulder and she turned to him. He had his hands palm down, moving away from each other. "Get on the floor," he signed, before rolling away and disappearing on his side of the bed. He lifted his head and motioned again to the floor and she nodded, somehow crawling off the bed despite her trembling.

While the silencer continued to attacked every thing that fell and made a new noise, Jim crawled over to where Pam was curled up on the floor between the bed and the wall. She could see in the moonlight he had several fireworks in his hands, a batch they kept on the night stand. He put a butane lighter and a couple small disks into her hands. "On my signal, light one and throw it right at the window," Jim signed. "If the window doesn't break, throw another."

Pam shook her head and dropped her pointer finger onto the other. "I can't."

"You can," he mouthed. He started to stand and Pam grabbed his arm, shaking her head. He smiled slightly, though his eyes were stilled worried. "You can," he mouthed once again. Pam dropped her hands and Jim took a couple slow, careful steps towards the kitchen where the silencer continued to attack the wobbly kitchen table. He turned to Pam and lifted his hands, pinkies and thumbs out, and watched the creature until it stopped moving. Pam held a disk in right hand and the lighter in her left. She was shaking so bad she didn't know how she was keeping a hold of them.

Jim dropped his hand, "Now!" It took one flick to get a flame and she lit the fuse. It hissed in her hand, catching the silencer's attention. She stood on her knees and threw it at the large living room window, unable to believe she actually got it on the sill. The firework started whistling and sparking and the silencer clamored over the couch and coffee table and all but threw itself at the window. Pam watched Jim continue into the living room and squat behind the couch as the silencer ferociously attacked the little disc. But when the firework went out, the window was only cracked, and Pam lit the lighter once more. She managed to catch the fuse of the second disc and throw it, and this time when the silencer attacked it, it was accompanied by a shatter.

Up on his knees, Jim's head was above the back of the couch and he flicked his lighter. In his other hand, a rocket style firework on a stick meant to be in the ground. He lit the fuse of a firework and it sparked, much louder than the discs, and Pam nearly screamed when the creature lifted it head and turned to faced Jim. But as it took a step, the firework flew past it's head and out the window, whistling loud before exploding. The silencer immediately turned to the explosion and jumped out the opening. Another rocket firework in hand, Jim stood up from behind the couch and walked towards the window. _It's out of here, what are you doing?_ Pam wanted to shout, but just watched in horrified silence while Jim lit up the other firework, it's loud sparking fuse sure to attracted the monster right back inside. The fireworks took off and exploded much further away from the cabin than the first one, and Pam could hear the monster crashing into the woods. The squawking of a flock of birds that it disturbed lured the silencer even further away.

Pam got to her feet and as quickly as possible she crossed the room to where Jim stood. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged tightly, and he returned her embrace, resting his cheek on her head. Still holding on to him, Pam looked around the cabin. The kitchen was destroyed, claw-marks in the counter and sink, the table sliced in two. Pam lifted her head and could see Jim also assessing the damage, a breeze coming through the shattered window caused them both to shiver. He dropped his arms to start signing, "We need to leave now." Pam nodded and Jim turned to head to the shelves near the bed. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes and started slipping a sweater and pants over his pajamas, and Pam walked over to do the same. She carefully walked to the front where her backpack sat. They had been preparing for a day like this for a long time, so her pack had most everything she needed in it plus her sketchbook and watercolors. While she made sure everything was zipped and secured, she watched Jim tiptoe through the kitchen and stand before her calendar. Despite all the thrashing from the silencer, it was still on the wall and Jim carefully took it down and walked to his backpack, and Pam smiled and faced away, wrapping her scarf around her blushing cheeks.

Peeking out the door, their next challenge was clear - how to get to the ground without making any noise. Jim assessed the damaged porch, splintered and bowed on the one side and turned to Pam to sign. "I'll shimmy along the outside and jump down, you toss me our bags and do the same." Pam nodded reluctantly, and kept a lighter and rocket firework in her hand while he shuffled along the outside of the cabin. He got down quietly, and Pam was able to swing and toss their backpacks to him with just a muffled _whoosh_. He stood at the end of the non-destroyed side of the porch as she shimmed along the beam closest to the cabin, and after she swung her legs over and was standing on the outside of the railing, his hands were on her waist, hers were on his shoulders and he was able to gently guide her to the ground.

Once her feet touched the dirt, she looked up and was very aware how close they were. She looked at the corner of his half-smile and thought about placing her own lips right there, wondering how his beard would feel on her cheek, how his mouth would respond to hers. But she just smiled and dropped her hands from his shoulders and motioned to the shed, "We should get a couple things from the tackle box." His smile faded a little before he nodded.

* * *

Pam waited until everyone had been in bed for an hour before she tip-toed through the lake house to the living room. She pulled a letter from her pocket and set it up on the mantle above the fireplace, hopefully enough in view to be found easily but out of view enough to go unnoticed until long after they woke up.

It had been two weeks since Roy was killed. Bringing his body back to the lakehouse was far too risky so Matt and Kenny went back to Mt Pocono to move Roy to the nearest patch of earth and buried him in a shallow grave. Pam painted his name and his birth and death dates on a cross that they put up in a shady area near the shore. Trish signed a eulogy and they all cried silent tears and left wildflowers at the base of the cross. Then everyone came to Pam one-by-one and hugged her, signing how sorry they were for her loss, how much Roy loved her and she loved him, how it was such a shame Roy was taken before Pam's life with him truly began. For two weeks they treated her like glass, congratulated her on how well she was handling things, making sure they never said a cross thing about Roy, always asking how she was feeling. And the tears would well in her eyes and she would excuse herself to her room to cry, not out of sadness or grief, but rather out of the horrible guilt that everything they all thought about her and Roy was a lie.

Lying next to Roy she often mused about leaving, how difficult it would be and where she would go. It was easy enough to find food cans, and now that she successfully could fish on her own she really only needed to find shelter near some water. But what was once just midnight thoughts of an exhausted brain was becoming a serious plan and while everyone was sleeping she started putting together her pack of supplies and map out possible routes to take. But the decision came today, when Roy's mother was grabbing something from the shelf and a little square floated to the floor. It was an old school photo of Roy, his hair blonde, his eyes bright blue and his smile big with a couple front teeth missing. With a trembling hand Susan picked up the photos and Pam quickly helped her to the couch and put her arm around her shoulder.

"He was so adorable," Susan signed, "I think he figured out how charming he was with those eyes and dimples at about five years old."

Pam smiled, she knew she was certainly taken in by his sky blue eyes and dimpled smile. It's what persuaded her to give him a second chance after he left her stranded at the Wilkes-Barre ice rink on their first date. It was persuaded her to give him lots of second chances.

Susan turned to Pam. "You were so good to my boy," she said, taking Pam's hand and squeezing. "So, so good."

Pam kept on her smiled for as long as she could, and once Susan let go of her hand, Pam was up and rushing to her room. She fumbled for a piece of notepaper and started writing a note. She kept it simple and vague, thanking them for keeping her safe, for their condolences when Roy died, but it was simply too painful to stay. She finished off with a request they don't follow her, instead focus on taking care and loving each other. And in the post script she added a couple tips for catching nice meaty walleye in the lage.

She closed the front door behind her slowly, and looked ahead to the curvy street to the main road. But she turned to the lake, and chewed her lip while walking towards the trees by the shore. "I hate to do this to them," she signed when she approached the cross, "but I can't stay. My biggest regret is I wasn't honest with you, that was unfair to both of us. But I'll always care about you." She kissed her fingers and pressed it to his name. _Good-bye_ , she said silently.

But then a light was behind her and she turned to see a figure approaching. It was Trish. She set the lantern in her hand at her feet and started signing to Pam, "What's going on?"

"I just came out here to star-gaze," Pam replied with a smile. She saw Trish's eyes travel over her shoulder to her full backpack. "I was going to go to the other side of the lake and wanted to be prepared."

"And you left this because...?" Trish pulled an envelope out of her pocket, "Anderson's" written in her cursive.

Pam's shoulders dropped and she sighed, her eyes darting between the letter and Trish's unreadable face. "I don't know," she signed finally.

Trish bit her lip and stuffed the envelope back in her pocket, "I'm not going to try to stop you." Pam jerked her head up and met Trish's blue eyes. "I just hope that you'll tell me why before you go."

Pam started twisting her fingers together, fussing with the large band on her ring finger. "I do actually know right where my ring is," Pam said.

"Let me guess, it's not in my bathroom."

Pam shook her head, "It's on our kitchen table. On top of note to Roy that's similar to the note in your pocket." She sniffed, "I had been planning to leave for months, and the day I got the courage the world ended."

Trish took a few deep breaths and then smiled a little, "Look, I loved my little brother, he was so funny, the life of the party when he wanted to be. He was also a self-centered jackass." Pam's eyes widened and Trish shrugged, "I understand why you need to go. I'll keep everyone from finding out as long as I can."

Pam smiled and nodded, and put her index finger on her chin. "I'll miss you."

Trish stepped forward and pulled Pam into an embrace, and when they parted tears were in both their eyes. Trish crossed her arms over her chest, "I love you. Please be safe."

"I love you too, thank you." Her legs and her heart didn't want move but she forced herself anyway, only letting herself turn back once. Illuminated by her lantern, Trish just smiled and gave Pam a wave before turning and walking to the house.

* * *

The sun was rising once Jim and Pam had reached their emergency stash a hundred yards from the cabin. They topped off their backpacks with some more food cans, first aid supplies and whatever clothes would fit. Pam bit her lip watching Jim look up at the hill where the cabin sat, but he turned back to her and smiled and they set off on their way. They joined up with the trail to the main road and stopped in front of the drug store. "Just need one thing," Jim signed walking in. He was out a moment later with a road map of eastern Pennsylvania and a topographic map of the Poconos. With the maps in his hand, he awkwardly asked Pam if she needed anything else. Pam shook her head and they started down the road.


	8. Day 262

**8\. Day 262**

They walked for hours until they reached the little town of Gouldsboro, which didn't have much happening before and was just a small collection of buildings now. Jim suggested they take a rest and they ventured off the main road until they found an empty house. It was a lake house, not unlike the Anderson's place on Lake Naomi. Pam felt weird just going into someone else's home like this, but the absence of any family photos or personal items led her to believe it was a timeshare which made her feel a little bit better. Jim opened up a can of chicken noodle soup to share and they ate it at room temperature. After their meal, Jim carefully opened up the map he grabbed earlier and set it on the table. He took a pencil and marked where they were. "We might be able to find a place like the cabin," he started signing. He pointed to the Lehigh river on the map, "We could follow the river until we find something similar, be near fishing."

Pam nodded and studied the map, her eyes following Highway 380 which lead back toward Scranton, except instead of west, she looked east of the highway. "There's a lot of farm area here, right?" she signed.

Jim knitted his brows and looked. "Yeah, I think so, I remember going out here for corn mazes and hay rides and stuff," he whispered.

"Maybe we should head to an area where we can start a garden, try to find a place also close to a stream," Pam signed.

Scratching his chin, Jim looked at the map, then looked to her and nodded, "That sounds like a good idea."

They spent the rest of the day taking stock of their supplies, carefully repacking things and making notes what they should find if they passed any shops on the way. They slept in their slacks and sweaters, their backpacks by the door ready for a quick departure. After failing to fall asleep quickly, Pam rolled over to find Jim staring at the ceiling, and she reached out to touch his shoulder. He slowly turned to her and gave an unsure smile. She bit her lip and started to whisper. "What happened last night?"

Jim stared at her a moment then shook his head, "Bad dream."

"But you have bad dreams often, what was it this time?" Pam replied.

Chewing his lip, Pam could tell Jim was debating how much to say. "I just, I wasn't able to protect the people I care about."

Pam reached out and took his hand to squeeze it, "I think it's natural to feel guilty for surviving, I know I do, but you can't blame yourself."

The worried look was still on his face but he smiled and squeezed her hand back. "I'm working on that, I guess." He was holding something back, she knew it, but she kept her hand on his and sleep finally came to her.

The next morning, they shared a can of fruit and planned their route north. Jim seemed tired, like he never managed to get to sleep the night before, but he insisted he was okay and they set off. They followed the narrow Lehigh road along Roaring Brook, and once they reached the little borough of Moscow, snow flakes were started to fall so they sought another unlocked, in-tack house to spend the evening in.

Unlike the house last night, this place was clearly a family home. It looked like an older couple, photos of grandchildren and extended family all over the walls. There were a few blank spots, paired with the open dresser drawers Pam figured this family fled quickly, grabbing the most important photos. They examined the rooms, Pam suggested they sleep in the guest bedroom and Jim quickly agreed. They ate a hearty beef stew for dinner and made their plans to check out some of the shops in the area then follow Aberdeen Road east and see if they could find a farm.

Like the night before, sleep was eluding Pam. She managed to doze off for a little while but woke to midnight darkness. She looked over her shoulder and felt her heart beat faster when she saw the bed was empty. _He's fine_ , she told herself, but that didn't stop her from getting out of bed. She was relieved to find him in the living room, staring out to the moonlit neighborhood, but was also concerned this was the second night in a row he wasn't getting any sleep.

She walked to his side, and he continued to stare out the window at the fresh dusting of snow for a moment before turning to her and lifting his hands. "It was you," he signed. "A silencer was heading right for you, and I yelled and screamed but it just kept going. I almost reached you and..." He swallowed hard and his eyes were shiny. "It felt so real."

Pam pressed her lips together and made a circle over her chest with her fist. "I'm sorry." Jim knitted his brows and she pushed down on her shoulder with her fingers. "I never wanted to be a burden. But I'm causing these bad dreams-"

Jim shook his head. "No."

"And you lost your home," Pam signed, her chin trembling.

Jim placed his hand on her shoulders and shook his head again. "The only thing that made that place home was you," he signed. He pointed to her, then touched his chest with his palm and with fingers gathers tapped his cheek and then his jaw. " _You're_ my home."

He was blurry in her vision now but Pam could see his small smile. She took a step forward and lifted her arms to put around his shoulders. His long arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her up and into his chest. "You're my home too," she whispered.

He tightened his embrace. "I'm going to protect you, Pam, whatever it takes, I promise," he said and his warm breath on her ear spread through her entire body.

She lifted her head to look at him, his eyes bright and focused on her, and she lifted up on the balls of her feet until their lips met. The kiss was soft, a little urgent, and even when she dropped her heels to the floor he still held her flush to him, reluctant to part his lips from hers. But once he did, she was surprised at the look on his face, like he was relieved. His eyes were heavy lidded and Pam took his hands into hers. "You need sleep," she mouthed. He gave a slow grin and nodded, and she gently tugged his arms and guided him back into the guest bedroom.

They lay facing each other, the smiles still not leaving their faces. Pam reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead and then rested her hand on his cheek, tomorrow they will find a place near a stream full of fish, a place where they can plant a garden, where they can build a real life, together. Jim grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He pointed to his heart, then crossed his forearms over his chest and finally pointed to her. Tears sprung to her eyes quickly and she took his hand and leaned forward to kiss him. "I love you, too." she whispered, her forehead pressed to his. Hand in hand, she watched him finally go to sleep, the hint of a smile still on his face. She fell asleep soon after.

When she woke with her cheek on his back and her hand on his chest, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, listening to his breath fill his lungs. She felt his hand cover hers and he rolled towards her slowly. "Morning," he mouthed, and she smiled and pressed her lips to his. He held her face to him as long as possible but she eventually lifted her head and whispered they should get going. She could see he wanted to groan in protest but he refrained. After a can of chicken & rice and route discussion, they left the small family home and walked towards Main Street.

There was a small drugstore in the center of town. Unlike the store near the cabin, this place had it's windows knocked out and had been looted. They were able to very carefully get inside, avoiding the glass shards on the ground. They managed to find a few food cans and other supplies on their list. When they passed the aisle marked "Feminine products", Pam signed she would be a moment and started to take off her backpack. After a glance at all the pink and purple packaging, Jim just gave a silly half-grin and continued to the next aisle and Pam smiled. She filled up what space she had left in her backpack when her eyes fell on a section of smaller boxes, mostly dark colored with words like "extra" and "ultra" embossed on the front. She could see Jim at the end of the next aisle facing away, and she bit her lip, grabbed two boxes and stuffed them into the front pocket of her backpack.

They left the store and followed Main Street until they turned onto Aberdeen Road. As they walked along the narrow road, the homes got further apart and the trees thinned out and became open fields. They reached a wooden sign on the road with an arrow pointing up a dirt driveway. "S RUTE FARMS" the sign read, the space between the S and R looked cracked but then carefully sanded and glued back together. Under the name was the number six and a carving of a bed, probably an old bed and breakfast. "Should we check it out?" Jim signed, and Pam shrugged and smiled. She saw Jim narrow his eyes studying the carving above the name, a round red vegetable with leafy greens coming out the top. "What is this? A radish?" he asked.

"The Radish Inn," Pam fingerspelled and Jim stifled a laugh. He stepped towards her, leaned down slightly to kiss her forehead then offered his hand. She placed her small hand in his and kept close as they walked up the dirt path towards the white-washed farmhouse.


	9. Day 263: Afternoon

**9\. Day 263 - Afternoon**

Halfway up the dirt path to the whitewashed farmhouse, Jim almost suggested they turn around. Something about the sign on the road was strange, like it was recently fixed, and everything about this farm seemed far too neat. Once they turned at the bend in the road, his suspicions were confirmed: there was a stone smoker with wisps of white coming out the chimney. He placed his hand on Pam's shoulder to stop her. "Someone lives here," he signed, motioning to the chimney.

Pam stared at the smoker for a moment and the mouthwatering smell of smoked meat hit both of them at the same time. "That may not be a bad thing," Pam replied, though Jim knew her stomach more than anything was making that comment.

Jim wanted to agree, finding others - especially if they knew how to cook and garden - would be excellent, but the question was would these people be friendly and open to the idea? He surveyed the structures, the farmhouse, the smoker, an old barn and another large shed, keeping his eyes open for any signs of people when Pam nudged him. She had her hands up, and when he turned he put his own hands in the air. Out of the bushes emerged a man, about as tall as Jim, barefoot and wearing overalls and a twisted pair of eyeglasses. In his left hand was something pointed, it looked like a novelty throwing stars from some kung fu movie. In the man's right hand, a spear clearly hand-fashioned out of an old broom, leather wrapped around to make a handle and a feather dangling from the end.

"Hello, do you sign?" Pam slowly asked, but the man just lifted his spear and she put her hands high in the air again. Jim took a half-step forward and tried to make some universal gestures: rubbing his stomach for "hunger", bringing his hands together and resting his head on them for "bed", then an "okay" gesture. The man narrowed his eyes and started to circle them, arching towards the farm house. He remained facing them as he walked then backed up the stairs into the building.

"We should go," Jim signed, "he clearly doesn't want us here."

Pam shook her head, "If he wanted us to leave he would have charged us or something, maybe he's just getting something to communicate."

Jim was about to protest when something stabbed his shoulder, he turned just in time to see a paper airplane fall to the ground, something written on it and a pen folded into the middle. Jim glanced up at the man, standing on the porch with his spear at the ready, and lean over to pick up the paper and unfold it. It was like a handwritten survey, asking for their names and skills. Below it also asked "occupation before", "snoring? sleep apnea?" and "blood type."

Pam took the paper and Jim started to sign. "We need to go before this guy murders us," he said, eyebrows raised.

Tucking the paper under her arm, Pam replied, "He just wants to know what we can offer."

Another waft of savory-smelling smoke came over them and Jim ignored his growling stomach, "I think he wants to stick us in that smoker."

Scoffing silently, Pam started to write, just first names under "name", "salesman" and "receptionist" under occupation, "no" under sleep apnea. She tapped the blood type section, her brows meeting, and Jim just shook his head, she nodded in agreement and moved on. Under skills she listed fishing, scavenging, crossbow, first aid, and sign language. She held up the paper to show the man, still on the porch, and he motioned for her to fold it up again and throw it. Jim tried not to roll his eyes while Pam folded along the creases and then threw the plane, which sharply arched up and then made a nosedive into the dirt halfway to the porch. Pam took a step towards the paper but the man rushed down the stairs, pointing his spear at Pam and then at Jim as he picked up the plane from the ground.

Pam looked to Jim and gave him a shrug before squinting and nodding past him. Rounding the corner of the farmhouse was a blonde woman with a large basket of laundry. The woman slowed her pace when her eyes fell on Jim and Pam, and she set down her basket and made her way towards them.

When the man noticed her, he waved his arms and shook his head but she continued until she was just a few feet in front of Jim. She was very petite, several inches shorter than Pam, and wore a plaid shirt and long skirt nearly to the ground. Her outfit paired with the man in the faded overalls made Jim truly feel like he had been transported back in time. She also looked very stern, her hair back in a tight bun, her face in a slight frown and her eyes narrowed and focused.

After studying both of them, she smiled slightly and motioned that they come in. The man shook his head and waved his hands no, but the tiny blonde just pushed passed him and then turn around again to make a "come on" gesture to Jim and Pam. The man sighed, and stepped aside to let everyone pass.

The interior of the house also felt like a trip back in time, with muted colored wallpaper, dark wood wainscoting and black and white photos along the wall of the entrance way. The woman slipped off her thin cloth shoes and motioned for Jim and Pm to do the same. They followed the woman until they reached the living room, and she stopped next to a couch. She picked up a paper pad and a pen and jotted something down. She handed it to Jim and it just said " _Coffee or tea?_ ". Jim wrote he wanted a coffee, and Pam wrote tea " _if it's not too much trouble_ ". The blonde woman nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them alone with the man.

The man pushed his glasses up on his short nose and gestured they all take a seat. He pulled a pen out of the pouch of his overalls and started writing on another pad of paper. Once their backpacks were on the floor and they were seated on a couch, Jim let his eyes wander around the room full of knick-knacks, decorative plates and cross-stitches and painted wood panels, many bearing images of the same red radish looking vegetable that was on the sign at the road. He looked to Pam, formed a C with his hand then bent his wrist over, "This place is strange."

"My super uptight grandmother would have loved it," Pam signed. Jim softly chuckled then look over to see the man staring at them scowling. He gave the man a little wave, then looked at Pam with widened eyes.

Several moments passed and the woman returned with a tray that she set down on the low table before Jim and Pam. She walked over to the man and when she saw what he was writing she scoffed and snatched the paper pad away. As they argued silently, Jim looked to the tray. Between the cups of coffee and tea was a sugar dish and a creamer. Pam brows met and she dipped her finger into the white liquid, bringing it to her tongue. Her eyes rounded and she pinched her index and thumb together and rotated her hand. "That's fresh milk."

"And you just stuck your finger in it," Jim signed, shaking his head. Pam lightly punched him and insisted he try it. He lifted the creamer and took a sip. It was indeed fresh milk, rich and a little sweet. He lifted the brows at looked to Pam. "How?" he mouthed.

A paper was shoved in their faces and Jim looked to see the woman before them. " _Do you want to stay here? If so, are you willing to help with chores?_ " the paper said.

Jim looked over to Pam, and touched his temple then his chin and pointed to her. "Are you sure about this?"

Pam tapped her left hand with her index and middle finger, then flicked her chin with her thumb, "Of course not, but I'm willing to try."

Jim stared at her a moment and half smiled, and turned back to the woman. "Yes, we want to stay and help," he said in a whisper.

The woman smiled slightly and took back the paper to start writing. " _I'm Angela, this is Dwight. Enjoy your drinks and we'll get things prepared_ ," she wrote on the paper she handed back to them. She then turned around and motioned to Dwight to get up. Dwight scowled but stood anyway, staring at Jim and Pam until he left the living room.

Jim studied the service tray for a moment, then reach over and poured some of the milk into the coffee and dropped in a lump of sugar. He brought the cup to his lips and he hadn't had a couple of coffee this good in a very a long time, even before the world ended. He looked over to Pam, holding her tea cup close with a satisfied look on her face. Her eyes met his and she smiled, setting her tea down. "Still think they're going to murder us?" she signed.

Jim put his coffee on the tray and lifted his hands, "I still think a 1 in 6 chance of getting murdered, but if it happens they'll be nice about it."

Pam stifled her laugh and then stood to walk around the room. Jim waited for her to turn back to him and started to sign. "I wonder why she was so willing to let us stay," he asked.

"If your only company was that guy, wouldn't you be excited to see new people?" Pam replied. Jim held in a chuckle and nodded, and Pam brought over a pad of paper from the table next to Dwight's chair. "I mean look at this," she mouthed.

It was what Dwight was writing when Angela came in with the coffee, a rough contract of terms for staying, including agreement to sleep in the barn initially, and earning of points from chore work that could be redeemed for sheets, clothing and bath time. He was even drawing up a table of chore and their point value. There was also a dress and grooming code. Jim lifted his brows and looked up to Pam. "Yikes" he mouthed.

Pam smiled and then her eyes fell to the floor next to the couch and widened, she pointed and made a sign pinching her index finger and thumb and pulling it away from her face. Jim furrowed his brows, his mind blanking on what the sign was. He knew he had learned it at some point but it wasn't anything they used often. He stood and walked around the couch to where Pam pointed and found mound of gray fur with two big gold eyes looking back at him, and then he remembered the sign was like the whiskers of a cat. The cat stared at him a moment, then curled up and closed its eyes.

Jim faced Pam, ready to say something when Angela walked back in. She pulled a paper pad out of her pocket and wrote down that their rooms were ready and they could bring their things up. Jim followed Pam's lead and slipped his backpack on, following Angela upstairs. There was a hallway and several doors with hand-carved signs on them. Angela tapped Jim on the shoulder and motioned to the door with "Irrigation" on it, but when Pam followed him, Angela stepped between them and motioned down the hallway. Jim gave a shrug, but Pam pointed to the notepad in Angela's pocket and Angela handed it to her. " _We only need one room_ ," he read upside-down when Pam handed the notepad back. Angela looked at both of them, her eyes traveling down to their hands, and she started her reply.

" _We normally only let married couples stay together,_ " Angela's writing said, her half-smiling face becoming more a scowl every second. Jim didn't want to push the issue, lest Angela decided to go with Dwight's original plan of putting them in the barn, but Pam grabbed the pen and replied back.

After writing her reply, she handed the pad to Angela and then gingerly set down her backpack. Jim looked over Angela's shoulder at the notepad and his eyes widened. " _What about engaged? I keep my ring in backpack to not lose it_." Pam squatted in front of her backpack and then when she stood, he saw it - the way too large engagement that Roy swiped for her. Jim chewed the inside of his cheek while Angela showed Dwight the notepad conversation. For the first time Dwight seemed to be the one not concerned about protocol and just shrugged, writing something quickly on the notepad that didn't make Angela's scowl lessen and then walking past her to open the door that read "Night Time". He motioned for Pam and Jim to come in and pulled a notepad from his overalls pocket. Jim took a look around, unsure what make this room "Night Time" themed other than dark blue quilts with yellow stars on the two single-sized beds.

Dwight showed the note he was writing to Angela, who nodded her approval, then handed it to Pam. Jim stood behind her to read it. " _Please get settled, we will return shortly to show you around and clean you up for dinner_." Before Jim had a chance to respond, they were gone and the door was shut.

Pam turned back to him and lifted her left hand, running her right hand with a pointed finger across it, "Okay, you might be right about the murder thing." Jim smiled and his eye fell to the thick gold band on her finger, so awkward and heavy on her hand. Pam noticed his gaze and twisted the band a couple times before grabbing her backpack and walking to a corner of the room. Jim also slowly slipped his backpack off his shoulders and walked to another corner to set it down. He turned back and watched Pam look around, her eyes finally met his and they both smiled.

He took a step towards her when the door opened and Dwight appeared between them, note in his hand. " _I will show the male around while Angela prepares bath for the female_." Jim raised his brows as Dwight motioned for Jim to follow, and looked to Pam who was trying to contain her smile.

Jim tapped his nose with his first two fingers then dropped them down to the first two fingers of his left hand. "This should be fun." Pam just smiled and quickly stepped forward to give Jim a kiss on the cheek. Now Jim really had no interest in going with Dwight but he left the room and followed the overalls-wearing man down the stairs.

They passed the washroom where Angela was setting up a bath. Dwight scribbled on his notepad to show her and she gave a tight-lipped nod, and while following Dwight out of the farmhouse Jim couldn't help but wonder about them. They obviously knew each other from before, seemed like an old bickering couple but he hadn't noticed any rings. He kept a few feet behind Dwight as they walked towards the smoker, he didn't actually believed his joke earlier about being put in the smoker, at the same time he couldn't entirely rule it out. But as they approached, Jim could see small hooves sticking out from under a tarp, a bucket of red glistening innards next to it. Dwight took out his paper pad and handed him a quick note. " _Demon-kill from this morning, I smoke some and can the rest, Angela's vegetarian so one lasts a while_."

Jim nodded and tried not to drool when Dwight carefully opened the smoker, checking the temperature of the slab of meat inside and giving the charcoal below a quick stir before closing. Jim hoped it wasn't too presumptuous to expect a slice of that meat tonight. The next stop was the barn, and Jim noticed several solar panels on the roof, then deep claw marks on the double doors. Like the sign at the road, it looked like someone had done their best to sand down the ridges of the marks but they were much too deep to be completely sanded away. Jim followed Dwight inside, looking around at the tidy barn with quilts tacked up and hay bales along the walls, Jim assumed all for noise insulation. He then stopped in his tracks when he saw it, a brown goat with black markings making its way to Dwight, tail wagging wildly. Dwight leaned down and gave the goat a couple head scratches and then straightened up and took his paper pad out again. " _This is Hilde, our daily goat_."

Jim took the pad and scratched down the obvious question. " _How do you keep her quiet?_ "

" _Always was quiet. Demon came through shortly after invasion, got most animals but she hid behind haystack and hasn't made a sound since_." Dwight wrote back. He walked towards a stall in the corner and continued writing, " _We milk here, with care we get 1 gal/day. We'll re-kid her with Hans when she stops producing._ "

 _They have two?_ Jim had so many questions, but could only look around the stall, a bench covered in hay Jim assumed to help reduce tapping of hooves, and a couple vertical slats with a small trough attached. Up in the stall there was a small shelf nearly above Jim's eyeline, on it stood a little wooden goat figure, the letter B carved into the side. A crayon drawing of a goat that a child must have drawn was pinned to the wall by the figurine. When Jim eyes met Dwight's again, he found Dwight scowling a little. There was a tug at his pant leg and Jim looked down to see Hilde nibbling at a fold in the fabric near his knee. A new note was soon in his face. _"Let's go to the field_ s."

With Hilde walking along still trying to gnaw at his slacks, Jim followed Dwight to a dirt field behind the barn. Dwight stopped at post with a long rope attached to it, tying one end to Hilde's collar and then slapping her rear so she'd trot out into the field and start chewing on weeds and sprigs of grass. Next to them was a pen and Jim could see the other goat in the distance, same chestnut color and black markings as Hilde. " _Hans has paralyzed vocal cords, went missing after demon came through, showed back up after 2 days. Must keep them separate until we want to bred again_." Dwight's next note said.

Jim grabbed the notepad, " _How will you quietly have baby goats?_ "

Dwight scowled and scratched a reply, " _We have ideas, we'll figure it out_." He seemed more agitated that before and Jim could tell he struck some sort of nerve he didn't intend to. Dwight started on his next note, " _We grew beets before, but this season we'll plant everything. We expect you to help with all phases of crop growing if you stay. Sowing starts 2 weeks. Tomorrow you and I will fish while the woman helps Angela with chores_."

" _Pam_ " Jim made sure to underline her name on the note, " _is actually better fisher. She taught me_."

Dwight gave Jim a glare that seemed to be his most common expression and wrote his reply. " _Do you hunt then? With your crossbow?_ " Jim quickly wrote down the crossbow was for self defense and Dwight continued his glare. " _Do you do anything of use?_ "

Jim brows met and he wanted to scoff, if Dwight was this irritating without saying a word, Jim could only imagine how annoying actual conversation was. " _I'm good at finding supplies and a quick study_ ," he wrote, frustrated that he needed to justify anything to this man. " _Also I managed to get a demon out of our home before it killed us_." Jim thought about Ryan in the forest and set the pen back to the paper. " _Twice._"

As Dwight read Jim's reply, his eyes softened and he took a few deep breaths. He looked back up at Jim; while he certainly wasn't smiling, the glare and the frown were finally started to fade and he nodded his head back towards the farmhouse. Jim smiled and followed Dwight, Hilde nipping at his pant leg the whole way.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, more to come from this day! I was going to raise the rating but I don't want this story to disappear into the FFN M-rated zone so next chapter will be edited down to a T-rating. _If you are interested in the more explicit version you can find it at the More Than That fanfic archive at mttjustonce dot net._ _


	10. Day 263: Evening

**10\. Day 263 - Evening**

After returning Hilde to the barn, Jim and Dwight walked back to the house and headed for the kitchen. A large slab of meat was on the counter next to a bag of salt and several glass jars. " _You'll help me can this venison. Then we'll clean you for dinner_." Dwight's notepad said. Angela's small figure was suddenly between them, causing both of them to jump, and she turned to Dwight. While they stood writing and discussing, Jim looked behind him and saw Pam in a robe peeking around the corner, her hair wet and pinned back.

"How's it going," Pam signed as Jim walked towards her.

"Well, I met their goats Hilde and Hans. Also Dwight questioned my worth as a man, so not bad." Jim said in a whisper. "You?"

"I learned their cat is named Miss Grayson and Angela asked a lot of probing personal hygiene questions, so about the same." Pam replied.

Jim smiled, his eyes following the collar of her robe and he found himself wondering what was underneath. Or perhaps what wasn't. He shook his head, this was hardly the time or place for such thoughts, and moved his eyes to an embroidered symbol on the robe, a red root vegetable with leafy greens coming out the top. "By the way, this is a beet, not a radish," he whispered.

Pam knitted her brows then looked up to Jim. "Then we must be staying at The Embassy Beets," she retorted and Jim stifled a laugh.

Angela appeared suddenly next to them, a habit of hers it seemed, and started guiding Pam back towards the washroom. Pam glanced at him to smile and Jim silently thanked God or The Universe or whoever that he had her to navigate this weirdness with. He returned to the kitchen to do probably the last thing he expected to do today: be taught by some barefooted beet farmer how to pressure-can deer meat.

Once the jars were in the pressure canner on the stove, there wasn't much to do beside wait near the kitchen. Jim wrote down a couple questions, technical and impersonal like how much electricity do they get from the solar panels, and what do they do with all the goat milk. Dwight twisted his lips to the side, stood to check the temperature on the canner, then had Jim follow him to a door just off the kitchen marked "Staff Only".

Dwight flipped the light switch and Jim descended the slat wooden stairs into the basement. The first thing in view was their preserved food shelves, the mason jars arranged almost like a rainbow, though most of the jars were beet red. Next to it, an old refrigerator quietly humming along. The walls were coated in pasted newspapers, an attempt to soundproof the room as much as possible. "We installed the solar panels a few years ago, let's us power the refrigerator, the stove and the lights." Dwight started whispering.

Jim nodded and turned his eyes to the opposite wall, along the whole length of the basement was what looked like surveillance and sound equipment. To one side there were old monitors with labels underneath: Goat Pen, Farm House, Barn. On the other side were old stereos and tuners, and a microphone and pair of headphone sat on the work table. Jim walked over slowly and saw next to the headphones was a notepad with crossed-out names next to numbers that looked like radio frequencies. At the top of the paper it read "Philadelphia" and "Pittsburgh", and then major cities listed by distance, Boston to Miami, Cleveland to Los Angeles, Toronto to Vancouver, all crossed out. "No luck contacting anyone?" Jim asked.

Dwight shook head no, "But I'm working on boosting the signal overseas, Japan or Korea has surely figured something out."

Nodding his head, Jim looked back to the notepad. He wish he could share Dwight's belief that someone out there was working on a solution. On the shelf above the work table was a photo of a woman holding a toddler. It took a moment for Jim to realize the woman was Angela, he didn't recognize her with her hair loose and her smile full. The boy smiled widely also, his hair as blonde as Angela's but his face much more round that hers. Next to the photo, another carved figurine, this one was a pig, a "B" initial etched on it's side like the goat figure in the barn.

"The cans will be done soon," Dwight said in a whisper. "Then we can get you shaved and ready for dinner."

Jim felt his brows met, "Shaved?"

"Yes, at Schrute Farms we greatly prefer our guests to keep a presentable appearance."

Jim would have protested but then his mind flashed on seeing Pam earlier in a bathrobe, thinking about the triangle of bare skin on her chest and how he wanted to put his lips there, to loosen the knot at her waist and start kissing from her collarbone down to her… "I don't know if I have a razor," Jim replied, following Dwight to the stairs.

"Don't worry, we will provide you with a shave." Dwight replied and Jim didn't think too much of the odd phrasing.

 _Of course he meant he would provide a straight razor shave_ , Jim thought as he tilted his lathered face back, sitting in Dwight's room. When the shiny razor appeared in his peripheral vision, he was briefly convinced this would be how he dies, bled to death shaving, no telling if it was intentional or an accident. But Dwight was surprisingly skilled, the blade gliding across Jim's face without scraping or dragging. Jim was uncomfortable with Dwight this close, so he closed his eyelids and thought of green eyes and curly hair, of delicate fingers stroking his cheek and a bright smile warming his chest. Then when he decided thinking of Pam's pretty face as the beet farmer shaved him was an association he'd rather his brain not make, he closed his eyes tighter and thought about basketball.

Dwight finished off by running some gel through Jim's hair, and then handed Jim a mirror. The shave was impressive, Jim's face was smooth without a single nick. The hair styling was less impressive, parted in the middle and a little too reminiscent of Dwight's own terrible hair style. Dwight wrote down a note then walked over to his closet and pulled out a short-sleeved button-up, the color of mustard. He handed both the note and shirt to Jim, " _There is a dress code for dinner_."

Jim motioned for a pen then wrote his reply, " _Got anything white? Or blue?"_ He refrained from writing: _anything that can't be described as "dijon"._

Dwight scowled but returned to his closet and fished out a plain white dress shirt from the back. " _Change and come downstairs promptly. We do not wait for latecomers._ " Dwight wrote on his notepad, and Jim hoped he was turned away from Dwight enough before rolling his eyes. He glanced back before exiting Dwight's room, just in time to see the farmer dig a ring from his front pocket and slip it on his left hand.

 _So they are married, they just don't wear rings while working,_ Jim thought walking to the Night Time room, _that's understandable_. But they also clearly slept in separate bedrooms, and there was definitely a distance when they interacted. Jim had a feeling the boy Angela was holding in the picture in the basement had something to do with that.

He entered the Night Time room and was faced with another surprise: someone had pushed the two beds together. Dwight had been with him the whole time and Angela nearly demanded a marriage license to even let them in the same room which only left one suspect. He supposed Pam only did it to mimic their situation at the cabin, to reduce the chances of him having a night terror, which was important now that there were others around. Still, the idea of her consciously making the decision, being sneaky and moving the beds with no one around made ideas swirl in his head that heated his cheeks. He looked at himself in the mirror, the hair gel was thankfully not dry and he was able to finger-comb his hair back in a less Dwightish style. After changing into the cleanest pair of pants in his backpack, he put on Dwight's dress shirt. The fit was good enough but the cuffs hit above his wrists, so he unbuttoned and rolled them to his elbows. Another look in the mirror and he chuckled a little, just a necktie away from looking like he was going his work from before. With another quick glance at the pushed-together beds, he headed for the hallway.

Jim halfway expected Dwight to be pacing in the living room writing a note asking Jim what he thought "promptly" meant, but he couldn't see anyone as he entered. A couple steps in and he noticed her, crouched in front of the gray cat scratching its chin. Pam saw his shadow and did a double take at his clean-shaven face, smiling broadly as she pushed herself up. Like the first day they met, he breath caught when she fully stood up. Whenever she had washed her hair at the cabin she would tie it back or braid it, but tonight her hair was down in soft ringlets around her face. He had no idea where she got the dark pink sweater she wore but it flattered her in every way, lightly hugging her in right places and bringing out the blush of her cheeks. Her skirt must have been borrowed from Angela, just a straight gray skirt that fell at her knees, but it was also clinging to her in a good way.

She looked him up and down as well, her eyes very focused on his beard-less face. She held her hand parallel to the ground and move her other hand beneath it, "I wondered what was under the beard." She touched her chin and wave her hand over her face, "Very handsome."

He was sure he didn't look handsome at all, he looked like a dumb office worker who couldn't stop gawking at a pretty girl. Dwight and Angela entered the room and motioned to the dining area.

The meal was definitely beet heavy, a big dish of sliced beets at one end, what appeared to be mashed beets in another bowl, and beets cut like fries topped with what must have been goat cheese crumbles. There was thankfully also a dish of rice and, what Jim was most excited about, a generous slab of the smoked venison in the center of the table.

Once everyone filled their plates, Angela signaled they should join hands for grace. Angela and Dwight took each other hands and lower their heads, and Pam gave Jim a shrug before doing the same. Jim didn't keep his head lowered for long before looking over to Pam, smiling while he studied the way her curls fell over her shoulders. He glanced over to Angela and Dwight just in time to see them raise their heads, Dwight watching Angela with an almost sad expression, Angela just looking ahead and quickly pulling her hand out of his.

The dinner was delicious but went quickly. Normally Jim would be chatting with sign to Pam but he felt awkward doing that in company that didn't understand and she seemed to feel the same. Angela started clearing the table and both Jim and Pam stood to help but Angela had a very set way of doing things and quickly kicked them out of the kitchen with a note telling them to discuss chores with Dwight in the living room.

Not long after sitting on the couch, the cat jumped up and settled on Jim's lap. She stared at him with her big gold eyes and he could feel her purring when he pet her. Pam smiled. "Angela said Miss Grayson never makes a sound, just stares and taps to get what she wants," she signed.

Jim lifted his hand to start his reply, only to have Miss Grayson raise her paw and curl it around his wrist, pulling it back to her.

Pam covered her mouth to giggle. "Look at her, already on your lap making you pet her" she signed. With a raised eyebrow, she crooked her finger and twisted it on her jaw, "Should I be jealous?"

He widened his eyes and smiled when he looked at her, maybe it was the hair, or the sweater, maybe it was what they said to each other last night but Pam was already a more bold, more flirtatious. He certainly didn't mind.

The moment was spoiled by a paper appearing in front of their faces, Dwight scowling above them, and Jim just let out a deep breath. It was a schedule for the whole week, breakfast an hour after sunrise every day, a plan for goat milking and the start of crop planting, plus some time carved out for fishing and sign language lessons.

Pam noticed the sign lessons right away, pointing them out to Dwight. " _It seems far more effective_ ," Dwight wrote down and Pam nodded in agreement. Jim chewed the inside of his cheek, Dwight was certainly right that it was more effective, and it was selfish to want to keep sign just between him and Pam, their own secret language of sorts. But none of that made Jim eager to teach.

Once Dwight had fully dictated the week's schedule, Angela appeared from the kitchen with a note. " _If no one needs anything else, I will go to my room for the evening_ ," the neat handwriting read.

Jim just shook his head no and Pam touched her chin then tapped her mouth with gathered fingers and put her right hand over her left wrist, all while very exaggeratedly mouthing, "Thank you for dinner."

Angela stared at her a moment before flashing a very small, brief smile, then turned to Dwight and gave him a firm nod. She pulled something out of her pocket and Miss Grayson was immediately off of Jim's lap and following Angela upstairs. Jim watched Dwight's eyes stay on Angela until she was out of view, then he looked at Jim and frowned and scribbled out another note. " _Angela's not to be disturbed when in her room. If an issue arises you come to me_."

Pam and Jim gave firm nods that they understood, then looked to each other with wide eyes the moment Dwight's back was turned. Jim rubbed his chin, still getting use to his beard-less face, then raised his hands. "I think I might head upstairs also."

Pam nodded, "Okay, I think I'll stay down here and hang out with Dwight."

Jim blinked a couple times, then touched his chin and put out his pinky and thumb, "Really?" Pam scoffed softly and tilted her head, and Jim chuckled silently. He grabbed a note, quickly wrote they would also be retiring for the evening (he actually wrote "retire", this place was already getting to him) and stood to take the note to Dwight.

Dwight insisted on showing them to their room and making them wait as he wrote out one last note for the day. " _Breakfast one hour after sunrise. Will flick the lights when ready but will not wait. If nature calls please use designated bucket in washroom down hall. Schrute Farms hopes you enjoy your stay_." Jim gave an okay sign and Pam signed and mouthed "Thank you" and with that Dwight gave them a slight bow and headed downstairs, though not before stopping briefly at Angela's door and staring for a moment.

Once in the room with the door shut behind them, Jim watched Pam quickly take off her ring in slip it into a front pocket of her backpack. She looked back at him like nothing had happened so he didn't push the issue. "For a dinner that was mostly beets it was pretty good," he signed instead, "Not bad for a first date."

Pam's eyebrows lifted, and with index fingers extended she touched her hands together. "Date?"

Jim gave a half grin and stepped closer to her. "Well yeah, we dressed up, I shaved, we had dinner, a beet farmer ordered us around, pretty classic first date," he whispered and Pam silently giggled. "Though I suppose ideally we would have gone to a movie or something. Maybe dancing."

"You have your discman, right?" Pam whispered after a moment. With brows knitted, Jim nodded yes and Pam smiled, "Well, we can listen to a song and dance. Or... sway at least."

Backing up to his pack, Jim raised his hands. "You sure?" he signed. "Last time you didn't talk to me for two days."

"It was that song! It was ... too much. You surely have something better," Pam signed in reply.

Buried in the bottom of his backpack was the round silver player and a sleeve with a handful of CDs. He flipped through the discs until he reached one he burned himself, scanning the handwritten tracklist. The room darkened a bit, and he turned to see Pam had switch off the main lamp, letting the lamp on the bedside table softly illuminated the room. Smiling to himself, he slipped the disc into the player and then stood and crossed the room, bowing while presenting Pam an earbud. She gave a curtsey and accepted the earbud, stepping closer as she placed it in her ear. Jim skipped until he got to the last track and pressed play, putting the discman in his pocket and offered his hand once again. Pam took it and stepped forward.

The track played a windy whistle sound, which made Pam's brows meet, then a banjo came in and her eyes widened. "What song is this?" she mouthed.

"It's called Sing," Jim whispered. Pam nodded and he watched her as the lyrics started, she seemed very focused until the chorus started and she swayed more to the music. As the singer said to " _hold her, tell her everything's gonna be fine_ ," Pam set her head on his shoulder and Jim pulled her closer. The song continued, the singer crooning about " _love you bring_ " and Pam lifted her head to look at him. Her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb brushed the bare skin of his cheek and as singer belted out " _Sing, sing sing sing_ " for the final time Pam pulled his face down to hers.

Just as he had imagined doing all evening, he slipped his fingers into her curls and kissed her, long and slow and deep. After several moments Pam pulled away, her lips red and her breaths heavy, and she pulled the bud from her ear. "Should probably put this away," she whispered.

Jim gave a reluctant nod, taking her to mean they should stop for the evening, and a part of him agreed. He wound the headphone cord around the discman and returned it to his backpack. But when he turned around, she stood facing him, her fingers working down the front of her sweater. She lowered her hands and the sweater fell open, revealing the soft curve of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach. He looked at her face, blushing, clearly excited but nervous, and he tilted out a pointed hand. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. Are you?"

 _What a silly question_ , he nearly said, the only thing he was sure about in this new world was that he was completely in love with her and wanted nothing more than to see and touch and kiss every inch of her. But instead he smiled and stepped closer, slipping his fingers under the collar of her sweater and pushing it off her shoulders. He ran his hands down her arms, guiding the fabric down and softly tugging the cuffs over her wrists until the pink sweater fell to the floor. She smiled back and stuck her thumbs under the waistband of her skirt, working it down over her hips and letting it drop in a pool at her feet.

They both fumbled with his shirt buttons and the zipper of his pants and soon white and tan fabric joined the pink and gray on the floor. Pam gave a wicked little smile before tugging at the elastic band of his shorts and it took all the self control he had but he grabbed her wrist and pushed her arm back, smiling his own wicked grin as he walked her backwards towards the bed then pushed her shoulders down gently so she was sitting.

The beds were comically low and he could tell Pam thought the same, clearly holding in a giggle as she sank into the mattress. But Jim got down on his knees in front of her, moving forward until her legs (also recently shaved, he noted) were on either side of him, their eyes at the same level. She kept those big green eyes on him as he pushed her curls behind her ear and then leaned forward until his lips met her neck, and he nipped and kissed while his hands reached around her and found the clasp of her bra. He managed to undo the hooks and kissed her shoulder as he pushed a strap off. He lifted his head and Pam bit her lip while helping the bra all the way off. He swiped an open palm over his face. "You're so beautiful."

She smiled and stroked his cheek before kissing him, hot and urgent, and nearly whimpered when Jim pulled away and started trailing his lips down her neck and over her collarbone. His hands spanned her ribs, moving down to her tiny waist and then to the swell of her hips, his fingers curling under the elastic band and tugging down. Pam scooted back on the bed, leaning on her elbows and lifting her rear and the bit of white cotton was soon with the rest of the fabric on the floor. Jim moved up her silky thigh with soft kisses until she gasped loudly.

Jim couldn't resist a little teasing, lifting his head and putting his finger to his lips to shush her. Pam pressed her lips together in a tight smile and lifted a finger of her own, her middle finger, and they both nearly laughed. But her smile fade as Jim's fingers traveled up her thigh. She tilted her head back, and he lowered his head.

She let out a gasping exhale and Jim got to his feet and started crawling up on the bed next to her. He took in the sight of her, her chest rising and falling with every breath and her face flushed, and it was hard to imagine a more beautiful image. He put his palm on her stomach, stroking the soft skin, and she looked to him and smiled, "You're pretty good at that," she whispered.

"Pretty good?" he replied, feigning offense.

"It's the first time, gotta leave room for improvement," she said with a smirk. She rolled towards him to kiss him. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and a shiver going down his chest. "I want you," she whispered.

He nearly grunted at how sexy she sounded, and felt even more turned on. But suddenly she jumped up out of bed, crossing the room to her backpack. He sat up and watched her, certainly enjoying the view, but he had no clue what was going on until she returned to bed and pressed a small metallic wrapper in his hand. He looked at the square, with a distinct round ridge in the middle, and his eyebrows raised, "When did you…?"

"They were at that drug store," she answered, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I just thought… we should be prepared."

"I dunno, Beesly, the beds? Rubbers?" He shook his head, "Pretty presumptuous."

"I prefer 'hopeful'," she retorted with a playful tilting her head, and he had no choice but to reach over and kiss her, and they laid down on the bed.

Holding himself up above her, he stayed still for a moment and she looked at him, eyes slightly shiny and lips slightly curled, and there are a million sappy things he wanted to say. How lost he was before her, how she made him understand love and friendship, how he wanted to make love to her and show her she was everything. Everything. He had to settled for just kissing her, listening to her breath as he moved slowly, achingly. He still wished he could hear her, and wondered how she would sound. Or maybe she was normally quiet save sharp inhales and heavy breaths. She wrapped every limb around him, her fingers gripping his shoulders trying to bring him closer.

He dropped his face into the pillow next to her and let out a quiet moan. He turned to nuzzle her neck and felt her fingertips run through his hair. "I love you," he whispered in her ear and she turned her head and smiled, mouthing "I love you" in return.

He gave her lips a quick kiss before rolling away. There were thankfully tissues next to the bed and Jim made a tight ball with a couple and stashed it in the bottom of a small waste bin under the nightstand. Pam had tucked herself under the quilts and Jim joined her there, siding up to her until her smooth shoulder was pressing into his chest.

"I see stars," she whispered.

Jim lifted his head, "You don't have to exaggerate, I know I'm not that good."

Pam chuckled softly and nudged him with her shoulder. "On the ceiling, they're constellations."

Jim looked up and could see pale green dots, finally the room was living up to its "Night Time" moniker. Pam reach over to switch off the table lamp and now the dots shone vividly, scattered all over the ceiling and the upper half of the walls. "Sure they're not random?" Jim whispered.

"No, they're pretty accurate, see, there's the Big Dipper, Little Dipper, that W one is Cassiopeia." Jim asked how she knew that and could see her eyes shining. "There was an astronomy book at the lake house, I … I went stargazing a lot."

Jim chewed the inside of his cheek, knowing immediately she went stargazing to avoid being intimate with Roy.

"And those two right above us are Vega and Altair," she whispered.

He reached up and gently grabbed a curl, looping it around his finger, "What's special about them?"

She looked at him and smiled, rolling onto her shoulder to face him. "In Asia the legend is they are two forbidden lovers, a weaver girl and cow herder, banished to either side of the river, the Milky Way. But on the seventh day of the seventh month, a flock of birds fly down and make a bridge, so they can cross the river and be together."

"Only one day a year?" Jim asked and Pam nodded. "That's quite the wait for a cow herder."

"If he's anything like you, he'd be worth it," she said with a smirk.

Jim grinned and leaned in closer, "I'll accept that ego boost." He kissed her smiling lips.

"I mean it though," she whispered, her smiled faded and her eyes shiny. She found his hand under the covers and held it tightly. "I .. I didn't know it could be like this."

He brought their entwined hands up and pressed his lips to her knuckles. "I didn't either." The smile returned to her face and she moved closer to give him a few more kisses. He closed his eyes and felt her warm breath on his cheek as sleep finally took over.

* * *

 _I didn't want this story to disappear into the M-zone so I decided to edit it down to a T-rating for here at FFN._

 _If you are interested in the more explicit version you can find it at the More Than That fanfic archive at mttjustonce dot net._


	11. Day 327

**11\. Day 327**

Pam felt most grateful in the mornings now. Grateful for waking up to another day, for waking in a bed in as safe of a place she could be. She usually woke before Jim and she would watch him, grateful he was safe, wasn't having a night terror. He would open his green eyes to her and smile slowly, and she was grateful for those lips which often were on hers first thing in the morning before moving to her neck. And when those lips were traveling down her stomach, she would feel a lot of things, love and lust, a bit of fear and apprehension, but mostly gratitude.

This morning she was the one with lips on him the moment he woke, making a line of kisses down his neck and chest. She found his tall lanky frame attractive the moment she met him but recently with the daily farmwork making his chest broad and more defined she wondered if she was developing an unhealthy obsession. Constantly she thought about his torso and his arms, felt a stir low in her core whenever she saw him working in the fields in a thin henley shirt, and all but ripped said shirts off the moment they were in their room for the evening. She continued kissing to the line of hair below his navel (the treasure trail) and looked to his face, his eyes heavy lidded but mouth smiling wide. She gazed back down and stared pulling at his waistband.

She crawled up the bed where Jim's breaths were slowing and he reached up to cup her cheek. "Good morning," Pam whispered.

"No, great morning," he quickly corrected, gently pulling her face down to his. Though their hosts initially preferred Jim kept clean shaven, that rule relaxed a bit and Jim would sometimes go a few weeks between shaves. Pam loved him at all stages of facial hair growth but there was something about him with a beard, it made her think of the cabin and meeting him and how immediately she trusted him and felt cared for by him. She smiled as he gently stroked her jawline and then bit her lip when his hand dropped and brushed her arm, then her stomach, and then reaching further down still. But his hand stopped moving and Pam noticed his eyes focused above her head. She turned to where he was looking and saw the lights flashing. They both sighed at the same time and started to roll out of bed, they had already learned the hard way that Dwight and Angela were quite serious about breakfast being served for a very brief amount of time before the chores for the day commenced.

They had been at Schrute farms for over two months, learning the ins and outs of crop planting and goat milking. The first harvest was still a month away so meals remained heavy on the canned beets, to the point that Pam had acquire a bit of a taste for them. There was a sizable stream nearby and Pam went at least once a week to fish. Dwight typically accompanied her on fishing trips, leaving Jim with Angela at the farm. Pam and Jim convinced themselves that was for the best since Dwight knew the area, but it didn't make it any easier for her to see the worry on Jim's face whenever she set off. So far the outings had been uneventful, but still, on the evenings after fishing trips she could tell Jim purposefully held her tighter, kissed her longer as they made love.

Once dressed, they started to leave the room but Pam's eyes widened and she turned on her heels and walked to her backpack. She always forgot they were supposedly "engaged". Pulling out the ring and slipping it on, she glanced at Jim, who would try to pretend he didn't watch her do this with his eyes averted and head down.

They came down the stairs and found Angela and Dwight already at the table, sipping tea and eating what appeared to be some kind of beet porridge. If anything, Angela was very creative with finding new meals to make with beets. Jim and Pam took a seat and Jim curled his lip when the concoction was served to him, warm mashed beets and a splash of goat milk that turned instantly pink. Pam shrugged and took a bite and while not inedible it tasted about as good as expected. Thankfully there was a sugar dish and a couple spoonfuls actually did make it halfway palatable. Jim followed Pam's lead and stirred two heaping spoonfuls on the porridge, and Pam stifled a laugh as he took a bite. She tapped her chin with her middle finger, "How's it taste?"

"Like sweet dirt, rather than just dirt." Jim tapped his wrist then his elbow, "Which is an improvement."

Pam chuckled silently, then her eyes traveled past Jim and met Dwight's usual glare. She had been teaching Dwight and Angela sign, and though they weren't fast with it nor had a wide vocabulary yet, by now they probably understood "dirt". Pam reminded herself she and Jim really needed to stop treating it like their own secret code. Looking at Angela, she tapped her chin then held her right arm up parallel to her body, left hand in the crook of her elbow. "Thank you for breakfast." Angela gave a terse smile and nodded. Pam then turned to Dwight. "What is today's plan?"

"Weather is cloudy so I think we go to the stream," Dwight signed slowly.

Pam nodded, watching Jim out the corner of her eye. His brows instantly became worried and he stared at his bowl. "How about Jim comes with me today, and you stay and work here," she signed and mouthed. Jim snapped his face to Pam's, the corner of his lips in a slight smile, and Dwight's scowl increased. "I know the way very well now, and you can focus on crops," Pam added, hoping that would compel Dwight.

Dwight thought for a moment then gave a nod. "You take the radio with you." He stood, motioned for Pam to come with him, and walked to the basement door. Jim signed he would start gathering their supplies for the outing, Pam nodded and followed Dwight.

Pam had been downstairs plenty, but she did her best not to linger or look around too obviously. Her first time downstairs she must have glanced too often at the picture of Angela smiling widely and holding a small boy, because the next time she was down here the picture was gone. She noticed the same thing happening with photos of a young bearded man often next to Dwight, and Jim had told her he would spot figurines and little toys in the barn that would be missing next day.

Pulling two handheld radios from the shelf, Dwight switched them on and set them far apart on the workbench. After some disassembly and tightening of screws, he had rigged the handsets to not beep but rather have a blinking light and make nearly silent static tones. He pressed a button on one set and a red light on the other flashed, alternating long and short. Handing Pam a pair of headphones, he motioned to the walkie talkie, and she walked over and plugged the headphone in, slipping them over her ears. She heard staticky silence interrupted by short pauses, and pulled the headphones off. "I hear it," she whispered.

"Good, now what do you message when you're on the handset," Dwight whispered back.

Pam thought for a moment and put her finger on the button. Dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dot. O-S or " _on set_ " as they agreed.

"Make sure your dashes are three units and dots one unit, that sounded like G-S which makes no sense."

Pam had to resist rolling her eyes and saying " _Surely you could figure it out_." Dwight always meant well, but also immediately became frustrated when others didn't do things perfectly the first try. "So we'll buzz you when we arrive at the stream and again when we leave, right?"

"And if there are any unexpected detours. You remember the abbreviations?" Pam shook her head and Dwight scoffed, grabbing a notepad and starting to write. Pam's eyes wandered to the paper pad near Dwight's elbow, the one with every major city in the country crossed out.

She saw a similar list her second day after leaving the Andersons. She was in Tobyhanna and stumbled onto the Army Depot. It was a communications branch and clearly was abandoned early on, fences downed and doors and windows left open. She wandered through the building, hallways clutters with papers and leaves that had blown in and found the main communications room. On the desk was a handwritten list of military bases with their statuses and near the top was Fort Drum, where Penny told her the last time they spoke she and their parents were heading. Pam had to read its status 10 times before it registered in her brain: _Compromised_.

"Pam?" Her eyes darted up and Dwight stood before her, handing her a list of abbreviations. Before he could ask anything, Pam took the list and thanked him, heading back up the stairs. She found Jim in the living room with their backpacks, Miss Grayson rubbing his legs and making figure eights around his feet. There seemed to be something about Jim and animals, the cat was always on his lap when they sat in the living room and Hilde the goat seemed to prefer Jim to Pam when getting milked. After giving Miss Grayson a pet, Jim looked to Pam and crossed his fingers on both hands and moved his hands apart, asking if she was ready. She smiled and nodded.

They put on thin soled shoes and started down the sand path, Dwight liked the idea of having sand to move around quicker and quieter and now the whole farm was divided with neat white walkways. Once out on the main road, Pam took the lead, turning right and walking until there was sign for the stream. They followed the narrow twisty line of water until it widened and there was a small clearing. On the banks were a couple handmade traps Dwight helped Pam build to improve their haul in less time.

"We'll anchor the traps here and a bit downstream, then come back upstream for a little hand luring," Pam signed. She set down her pack and pulled out the radio, putting on the headphones. She unfolded her cheat sheet from Dwight and messaging "AR STM", _arrived at stream_. After a moment, low static in her ears was interrupted by tones and the light on the set flashed a short blink then long then short again, "R" meaning " _Roger_ ". She signed to Jim that Dwight knew they were there and okay. They both took off their shoes, rolled up their pants and started wading in the stream. Once the traps were set, Pam tied a lure and Jim followed behind her with a net and together they were able to catch a few fish.

The traps were a waiting game so Pam suggested they hang out for a while and took a seat on the shore, Jim sitting beside her. "I don't know about you but that beet porridge did not do it for me," Jim signed. He reached in his backpack nearby and pulled something wrapped in a handkerchief out, unrolling it to revealing a candy bar. "Halfsies on this Snickers?"

Pam smiled and put out her hand. Jim liked to squirrel away little candies whenever he ended up on a supply run, and they would share things like peanut butter cups and chocolate caramels in their room after dinner. Once the candy bar was gone, Jim lay back in the grass, head facing the sky. Pam lay down soon after, curling up to Jim's side.

"It's pretty here, you should paint this sometime," Jim whispered, stroking Pam's hair. Pam hummed in agreement and moved closer to Jim until her head was up on his chest, her ear listening to his heartbeat and her eyes looking at the clear babbling brook and the trees beyond.

* * *

She left the army depot and mindlessly followed trail signs into the woods. _Compromised_ , the word kept repeating in her head, _compromised_. She never had much hope that her family was okay, that perhaps somehow Fort Drum withstood relentless attacks from these creatures. But she still always had a little hope, and now it was gone.

Pam walked and walked, a thunderous sound getting closer. The trail took a turn and the woods opened up to a pool of water. The thunderous sound was revealed, a short but fierce waterfall. Her eyes scanned the scene for any sign of the monsters, it was certainly loud enough, but maybe the monsters hunted sharp sudden sounds rather than continuous sounds. She approached the waterfall slowly, the mist getting into her eyes. She opened her mouth and a sob came out, and next thing she knew she was on her knees, doubled over and unable to stop the tears. Why was she left? Why did she get to survive? And what was she going to do, walk in circles around the Poconos until she made too loud of a noise and a monster got her too?

Sitting back on her heels, she wiped her cheeks and nose and looked across the pond to see two shiny dark eyes looking back at her. It was a deer, completely frozen save its big ears rotating around its head. Pam didn't dare move, and the deer tilted its head for a drink from the pool. There was another movement and Pam gasped slightly when she saw it, a fawn, all spindly legs and lightly dotted with white. The mother lifted its head and began licking the fawn's nose, and when the fawn squinted its eyes Pam felt a smile break out, imagining a small child scrunching up their face and pouting as their mother tried to clean smudges off their cheek. The mother and fawn took one more look across the pond and then started walking away. Once they were some distance from Pam, she splashed some cold water on her face then stood and walked in the same direction.

Keeping at least a dozen yards between them, Pam followed the mother and fawn. The fawn couldn't be more than a few months old, probably born right around the time the monsters came. But with an attentive mother, and with lots of good luck, it looked healthy. They wandered in the grass near the trail, bearing left when the trail came to a fork. A map was posted at the split in the trail, showing her that going right would take her south. If she went straight south she could be back at the Andersons in a day. She was sure they would take her in without question, would assume unbearable grief over Roy caused her to leave and just be grateful she came back.

But the mother deer and the fawn went left, going north into territory Pam was unfamiliar with, mostly forest and parks and little nothing towns that may or may not have much in the way of supplies. The deer and fawn stopped, and the fawn looked back to her. It was so small, so dependent on its mother, but it had made it this long. Pam chewed the inside of her cheek, look one last glance to the right, and turned left, to the north, to the unknown.

* * *

This spot next to the stream was a nice scene to paint, Pam thought, her head gently rising and falling with Jim's chest. If she did paint it maybe she would add deer to the scene, a mother and a baby. She looked up to Jim and he smiled back, tilting her chin and bringing her face to his. His lips still on hers, Jim put his arms around her and slowly rolled her until she was on her back, him half on top of her. He managed to unbutton her flannel shirt one handed and then started tugging down the cups of her plain cotton bra. "Been thinking about this all morning," Jim whispered near her ear before moving down.

He kissed her skin softly in a circle then gave her an impish smile and Pam felt his hand flat on her stomach, fingertips toying with her blue denim jeans.

She wasn't sure how she managed to make no other noise than a shaky exhale. She looked up to the sky, blue dotted with puffy clouds, and wondered for a moment how Jim became so good at this, how he knew the right movement and rhythm and use. He must have learned from a girlfriend much more confident that Pam ever was with Roy, someone not hesitant to say what she wanted and liked. _Someone who is probably dead now_ , her mind oddly thought.

As if he sensed he mind was wandering, Jim lift his head and his lips were soon on her neck, kissing up to her ear. "Tell me what you want." Occasionally she got a sense of his actual voice, warm and a little gravelly and it gave her a shiver.

She turned her face to his. "I... I want you to talk to me," she whispered without thinking.

His brows knitted slightly, clearly not expecting that request, but then he smiled and returned his lips to her ear. "You're beautiful," he said. His hand moved and she gasped a little. "You feel so good."

Pam breathed heavier, knowing the combo of his fingers and his husky voice saying things like that would be her undoing. He dropped his forehead to hers and her fingers dug into the earth next to her and she screwed her eyelids shut, letting out shaky breaths. When she opened her eyes his gaze was firmly on her, his mouth in a half smile. After her breathing returned to normal, he smirked, "So, in that star story, do you suppose this is how that cowherder keeps that weaver girl coming back every year, doing this next to the Milky Way river?"

Pam rolled her eyes hard but couldn't stop the smile spreading on her face, and Jim chuckled before kissing her. When Jim lifted his head she reached up to stroke his check, how did she get so lucky, she wondered, how did she meet this man, this funny, sweet, sexy man who did such incredible things both to her body and her heart? The world had ended, she had lost so much but she somehow had him, and he was everything.

Much like this morning, Jim's eyes glanced passed her and she turn to where he was looking, find the radio handset next to her pack was blinking. Pam looked back to Jim, put her hand near her temple and made the sign for the letter D followed with the sign for eyeglasses, their own slang sign for "Dwight." Jim gave an exhausted sigh and rolled off of Pam. Without Jim's body heat, Pam was quickly reminded her shirt was wide open and she buttoned up her clothes.

Once on her feet she walked over to the handset and pulled her abbreviation cheatsheet out of her back pocket. The set was flashing three short blinks then three long, "O-S", on set? Headphones on, Pam answered with "O-S" and waited until she heard the tones "S-T-S", _status_. Jim was a few feet away and watched Pam roll her eyes. She began to sign, "Dwight want to know our status."

Jim shook his head slightly, "Can you say NOYB?"

Radio in hand, Pam stuck out her thumbs and pushed her close fists forward, "You wanna try that?" Jim just smiled and waved his hand no, and Pam started replying. "F-S-H-N-G," Hopefully that was enough to get Dwight to stop bugging them.

While Pam fussed with the radio, Jim waded into the stream and pulled out the first trap, just one small trout that Jim was able to get to a flat rock and stabbed quickly with a pocket knife. He dropped the fish on the ground by the others then pointed downstream, "I'll go check the other trap, you can message Dwight that we're heading back."

Pam nodded, and started a new set dots and dashes. "H-D H-M" she entered twice. " _Heading home_."

She waited a moment when the light flashed and static in her ear was interrupted by long and short pauses. "TTL FSH CGHT"

Pam scoffed silently, _total fish caught_? What did that matter, they would bring home what they bring home. She gazed at the six fish on the ground, and punched in three dashes and two dots. " _Eight_." If the second trap comes up empty she would just have to make up an excuse.

A series came through fast and Pam pressed the headphone to her ear. She listened carefully and consulted her list to try to understand it, silently cursing Dwight for all his abbreviations that made sense only to him. Giving up on deciphering it all, she started to press the button, replying "C-F-M" ( _confirmed_ ) when there was a cry nearby, it was quick and almost sounded like a small child. Pam froze and watched the forest, her heart racing when she saw movement, and then a streak of orange and black. It was a fox with a small, gray rabbit limp in its jaws. The fox ran by and disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

But not a moment later, Pam heard crashing in the woods, something fast and large, and then it was in the clearing, ten yards away. The silencer's skin was a leathery brown and it moved only its head, hard plate around its ears fanning out. Pam turned her head and there was Jim downstream, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. She shook her head and put her finger to her lips.

Even from the distance, she could see the tears in his eyes. He held up his hand slowly, forefinger and thumb touching and motioned away from his face. "I'll distract it."

She shook her head again and held out her hands palms up, moving her fingers. "Wait." His chin was now trembling and she tried to blink away the stinging in her eyes and made a circle with her palm over her chest, "Please."

There was a clicking noise and Pam jerked her head back to the silencer, stalking around her slowly and listening with the gaping holes in the sides of its head. She turned back to Jim and saw something bright orange in his hand. It was a flare gun, Dwight made sure everyone carried one when away from the farm and he and Jim had glued a small firework to the flare so it would make noise as it shot into the air. But Pam knew the gun made a loud pop when it discharged and this silencer was so close it would probably slash Jim down before getting distracted by the firework.

"Wait," she signed desperately. She saw himself loop his finger into the trigger and sharply inhaled, making the silencer stop and turn towards her. She kept her eyes on Jim, his hand shaking as he lifted the flare gun up, then there was a piercing ringing. She dropped the radio, pulled the headphones off her head and held her ears, only vaguely aware the silencer was frozen, the plates around its ears spasming. It let out a shriek and ran back into the woods.

Pam stood for a moment, waiting for the ringing in her ears to dissipate, when Jim threw his arms around her, nearly knocking the breath out of her. The ringing started to fade and was replaced by Jim's trembling breaths. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his middle and held tight.

"It's okay, we're okay," she whispered. Jim lifted his head, eyes wet and red, and then leaned down to kiss her, his tears mixing with her own. Once his lips parted from hers, he pushed the loose hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. "We're okay," Pam mouthed again. Jim finally nodded in agreement and dropped his arms. She looked down to the radio by her feet then lifted her hands, "We should tell Dwight." She could tell Jim wanted to protest and say they should just watch 'til they got back so she continued, "He should know so he can safeguard home."

Jim chewed his lips and nodded okay, and Pam got back on the set. "D-M-N E-N" she punched in, _demon encountered_. Dwight was quick to reply, asking which way it headed. Pam look around the clearing, and replied that it went north west, which was thankfully the exact opposite of the farm. " _Injuries_?" was Dwight's next question and Pam was relieved to reply, " _No_."

"R-T-N D-R-C-T" _return directly_ , Dwight messaged, and Pam pulled the headphone off. "He says come straight home." Jim nodded and they gathered up their supplies and fishing haul and started back.

The walk was "quiet", on the way to the stream Jim walked next to Pam when he could, signing little quips and pulling funny faces. But returning he stayed a few feet behind Pam, and when she looked back at him he was constantly scanning the trail, listening and watching. She would smile and he'd give a small smile back but the worry was still in his eyes. They turned onto the driveway at Schrute farms and were not even to the farm house when Dwight met them, pushing a note into Pam's hands.

"Come to the basement ASAP for full incident report. Do NOT mention encounter to Angela," the note read. Pam looked up to see Dwight glaring, waiting for a response and she nodded. He turned and briskly walked back inside, and Pam looked to Jim, who just rolled his eyes.

"You're probably the only one who needs to report, right?" he signed. Pam replied yes, and Jim pointed to the string of fish on her backpack, "I can take the fish and clean them, get them ready to smoke."

Pam watched him and he stood next to her, untying the fish, he seemed very eager to get a new chore quickly, reluctant to talk about the silencer at the stream. "Hey," she mouthed, putting her hand on her arm, "Are you okay?"

He put on a smiled and nodded, "I'm fine, you should go do the report thing, while it's fresh." She smiled back but it faded once he turned away, and he walked off with his head down.

"Approximate height?"

"I don't know, six feet? But it was hunched over, it's arms were long and touched the ground, so maybe eight feet if it stood straight."

Dwight nodded and wrote in a binder that had the Lackawanna County seal on the front and read "Sheriff's Deputy - Volunteer" in half-worn off letters. They sat at the workbench in the basement and Pam tried to glance at the lined pages inside the binder, it looked like Dwight had kept very detailed notes about the silencers over the last year. "What attracted the demon, in your best estimate?" he whispered.

"I heard a noise, like a scream, and there was a fox, it had a rabbit in its mouth."

"And what made the demon leave?" Dwight asked.

Pam shook her head, "I don't really know, I had the headphone on and then there was ear-piercing feedback, and it must have been able to hear that. If it hurt my ears, it was probably twenty times worse in it's ears."

"It wasn't another sound in the words, maybe another animal?"

"I don't know, that's possible I suppose," Pam said with a shrug. Dwight continued to scribble and Pam glanced again at his notes, "When's the last time you saw one?"

That made Dwight stop writing, he swallowed hard and looked off at nothing in particular. "September 15th."

Pam chewed the inside of her cheek, gazing up at the shelf, at the spot where there used to be the picture of Angela with the little boy in her arms. "That was a bad day, wasn't it?" Dwight's eyes snapped to hers and his mouth twitched. "Is it why you don't want to tell Angela we saw one?"

He pressed his lips together and abruptly closed the binder, "That's all the questions I have for you. You can return to your chores."

"Dwight," she said, standing to follow him across the basement. "We've all lost loved ones, and I know it's so hard." Dwight spun around and glared at her but she pressed on. "I'm just saying I'm here, and that talking? It can help. Whenever you're ready."

His eyes eventually softened and he nodded, "Your offer is noted. We need to smoke the fish before it goes bad. We don't want today to be a total waste."

That was as good of a reaction as she was going to get, Pam decided, so she replied with a polite smile. Dwight watched her a bit more, then turned to the stairs and left without another word.

Everyone kept busy with chores for the rest of the day, but Pam still found Jim was not acting himself, he seemed a little distant and closed off. She thought about how he acted today in comparison to when the silencer attacked the cabin. At the cabin, he took charge, he stayed calm and formed a logical plan to distract the silencer. Today, he nearly panicked when he saw the creature so close to her, he was shaky, almost made the rash decision to shoot off the flare and likely get himself injured or worse in the process.

That evening, Jim ate dinner fast and right after excused himself to their room for the night. Angela watched him leave the table and her eyes snapped to Pam and she lifted her hands, "Is he okay?"

Pam quickly glanced at Dwight, who was pushing a sliced beet around his plate, and she looked back to Angela and shrugged. "Just tired I think, I'm also pretty tired, so I'm going to head up too."

Angela gave her usual pursed-lipped nod and jumped up to grab Pam's dinner plate. Pushing her chair in, Pam smiled slightly at Dwight and was pretty sure she got the hint of a smile in return. Satisfied with that, Pam walked into the living room, gave Miss Grayson a scratch on the head then went up the stairs.

Opening the door to their room, she found Jim sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees and head tilted down. After slipping the ring off her finger and placing it in her backpack, she walked over until she was right in front of him, reaching out to stroke his jawline and tilt his face up to hers. She smiled and he smiled back weakly, his eyes still filled with worry, and he lifted his hands to pull her closer, pressing his cheek to her stomach. His arms wrapped all the way around her middle and she stroked his hair.

Seated next to him, she took his hand in hers, holding it until he looked at her. "Can I ask you something?" Jim looked at her, curious, and she took a deep breath. She was hoping Jim would talk about this on his own but by now she wasn't sure he would unless she urged him. "When Larissa died was it ... was it a little like today?"

Jim watched her for a long time before nodding. "It was a supply run. I was in front of her, she stopped to tie her shoe and ... and it was right there." He blinked back tears and gazed down, "I couldn't have done anything, I know that. But I can't help feeling responsible, that I should have somehow better protected my baby sister." He looked to Pam and chuckled, "She'd be so pissed at me if she were here. She'd snap at me at tell me to stop blaming myself."

Pam half-smiled and sat up straight. She forcefully dropped her right and on her left, like a karate chop, made a thumbs up and swept it across the back of her hand, then pointed to Jim. "Stop blaming yourself."

Jim smiled a smile that Pam was relieved to see, full and honest. He took Pam's hand, "She would have really liked you."

"I wish I could have met her," Pam replied, and Jim gave Pam's hand a squeeze.

Once in bed they lay facing each other, and Pam watched Jim as he played with her curls. "I blame myself a little too, for Roy," she whispered. Jim knitted his brows and she took a breath, "Like if I had been more insistent, if I made him not overstuff his backpack, maybe he he would have made it." She bit her lip, "And then I feel guilty, because him dying is the reason I left. And then I found you. And you make me so happy, but the guilt is there sometimes."

She could see Jim's eyes in the moonlight, studying her face. "I think you would have left, even if he lived. You would have found the strength." Pam shook her head and he reached up and cupped her cheek, "You would have, because you're the strongest person I've ever met. I know you don't always feel it, but you have it."

 _Not the strength to lose you_ , she thought but she bit her tongue and smiled. She shouldn't dwell on the thought that she could have lost him today, that was the reality every day. Rather she should feel grateful they got through this day, and got through it with no injury. She still had him, his humor and sweetness, and yes his skilled lips and hands, and for that she felt gratitude. With Jim's breath slow and warm on her cheek she closed her eyes and drifted asleep.

* * *

Day seven since leaving the Andersons, Pam found herself walking on a twisty mountain road outside Tobyhanna. She had been walking for days without much direction, taking shelter in sheds and cabin homes she could easy break into and eating cold canned soup. A couple of the cabins were nice, fairly clean and cozy and she would consider staying. But in the morning she woke up cold and with the feeling that she couldn't stay, because it wasn't her home. Maybe she was being a little unreasonable but she was hoping for a sign, like the mother deer and fawn, a signal that this was where she belonged.

This mountain road looked like all the dozens of mountain roads she had walked down the last week except for one thing, a mailbox at the start of a driveway. She had seen plenty of mailboxes painted a dull color with fading address numbers stenciled on, but this one was bright blue, like a lake on a nice clear day. On the side was a rather skillfully painted trout jumping out of the water and a hand-painted "DH". But what really interested Pam was the post the mailbox sat on, covered in initials with little drawings next to them. She squatted down to take a closer look. Towards the top of the post was "GTH" and a red sports car. There were many other initials, mostly ending with "H" and towards the bottom were two sets of initials in the lopsided handwriting that must have belonged to a couple children. There was a "JDH" with wobbly-lined basketball next to it and below that "LMH" with musical notes and a pink flower. Pam smiled at the little flower, it looked like something Penny would have doodled on the front of her school notebooks.

Standing upright, Pam studied the dirt driveway, which was densely lined with trees and curved sharply. She glanced back to the mailbox, to the little basketball and flower. Maybe this was the sign she was looking for, or maybe all that was up there was another cold drafty cabin. She started up the pathway to find out which it would be.

* * *

 _a/n: I edited this down so it wouldn't get lost in the M-zone, but if you're interested in the more mature version please find it under my same author name at mttjustonce dot net_


	12. Day 374

**12\. Day 374**

"Do I play basketball?" Larissa signed.

Jim made a nodding motion with a closed hand. "Yes."

Thinking for a moment, Larissa hooked her fingers together. "Am I friends with a rabbit?"

Jim knitted his brows and smirked, "Yes."

"Am I," Larissa started finger spelling, "Michael Jordan?"

Jim shook his head. "Only five questions that time."

"Your choices are too predictable," Larissa signed, fingerspelling out "predictable". They played this "Who am I" game as a way to practice sign, though today it was a way to pass time in the store they were picking up supplies up from. When Jim and Larissa set out this morning it was sunny with few clouds in the sky, they had no clue they would get caught in a thunderstorm. Thankfully the storm started after they reached the building but the lightning had drawn out at least one silencer, Jim heard it destroying what he believed was a tin roofed shed up the road.

So they took a seat in the aisle and started playing this "Who am I" game, which Larissa was dominating. The next round Jim took eight questions to guess Gwen Stefani, rolling his eyes hard but smiling when Larissa fingerspelled "bananas" to the imaginary beat of "Hollaback Girl". "You're getting better." Larissa signed with a smirk on her face.

Jim laughed silently and looked out the glass door. The sun was out again, already drying up the sidewalks. "You ready to head back?"

Larissa pressed her lips together as she studied the street, "I suppose I've beat you at this game enough."

With a soundless chuckle, Jim got to his feet and helped Larissa to hers. Once their supply-filled backpacks were on their shoulders, they faced the door. Jim looked at Larissa with raised eyebrows, neither of them itching to go first. Smirking, Larissa held her left hand palm-up and put her right fist in it. Jim smiled and did the same, and they taped their fists on their palms three times before he flattened his hand and she flicked out her index and middle finger.

Larissa shook her head, spinning her finger in a circle and making a clapping motion. "Always paper."

"Force of habit," he mouthed, and they smiled before Jim turned to open the door. He stopped a couple steps into the street, craning his head in all directions and listening carefully. He turned to Larissa to give her a thumbs up, and she nodded and stepped into the street.

He ended up several paces in front of her before turning around and noticing Larissa was tying a loose shoelace. She stood smiling, giving him a thumbs up. Then it happened so fast. Movement in the alleyway behind her, causing her to gasp and step backwards into a puddle, the splash loud enough to make the silencer charge her. His scream was masked by her own, the long leathery arm coming down followed by her falling to the pavement. For some reason it didn't come towards him, instead ran the other way, and Jim rushed to kneel at her side.

The gash ran from her neck down her waist, and she breathed in short gasps, "It's okay, you're gonna be okay," Jim whispered the lie over and over. He pulled his sweater over his head, getting ready to apply pressure but Larissa's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"It's okay," she whispered back, smiling weakly.

The tears flooded his eyes and yet he felt a smile tug at his lips. Throwing his words back in his face, as little sisters tended to do. He set the sweater down and took her hand. "It's okay," he whispered until the light in her blue eyes dimmed and her hand went limp.

The cabin was much too far to carry her back to. There was, however, a wooded area just behind the row of buildings, Slipping her backpack off her shoulders, he lifted her and with blurred vision carried her to a small clearing. He walked back to the store, found a small shovel. The ground was still wet and he easily dug a shallow trench. He lifted her body once again and set it down. _I'm sorry_ , Jim said silently as he folded her arms. I _should have protected you better,_ he thought combing through her hair. "I love you," he whispered, his lips touching her forehead.

Once she was covered in earth and surrounded by garden stones, he said one last goodbye and turned to the main road.

Everything felt oddly blurry and bright as Jim walked through a forest alone, one backpack on his shoulders and the straps of another smaller one in his hand. He reached up and with his sleeve wiped sweat and tears from his eyes. He caught a glimpse of his hand, blood dried on the back and dirt caked under his nails, before dropping it limply to his side.

It was a while to the cabin, and the thought crossed his mind to just stand still and scream out. It could all be over so easily, so quickly.

Movement flashed in the corner of his eyes and he stopped and studied the woods around him, and when he looked forward again he drew in his breath. _Larissa_.

She stood before him in white, her hair dark and shiny, her skin with no hint of a mark. Jim didn't know how to respond other than making a circle with his fist over his heart. "I'm sorry."

Smile on her face, Larissa shook her head and lifted her hands, "I'm okay. Don't worry about me." She pointed away from both of them, then hooked her index finger. "She needs you now."

Jim knitted his brows and put his thumb to his chin, moving his forefinger. "Who?"

"You have to protect her, Jim. No matter what." Larissa signed.

"Jim!" The voice was unfamiliar and distance and Jim swiveled his head to try to figure out where it was coming from. When he turned back, Larissa was gone. Then he heard his name, a whisper in his ear. " _Jim._ "

* * *

He woke with a start, eyes popping open and sharp gasp coming out of his mouth. Instinctively he turned his head and found Pam still fast asleep and facing away from him. She breathed deeply, her ribs expanding with each inhale and Jim reached out to loop a loose curl around his finger. For several moments he stayed like this, waiting for the stress of his memory-turned-dream to dissipate. Once his heart was back to a normal rate and his hand less shaky, he carefully got out of bed and crossed the room to the dresser where his clothes where. He checked over his shoulder to see if Pam was still asleep before turning back and reaching into his backpack, pulling out a small pouch and slipping into his pocket.

The light flickered, the sign breakfast was ready, and Jim sat on the side of the bed and touched her shoulder. He smiled as she scrunched her face and opened her bleary eyes to him. "Breakfast time," he signed.

"Don't look at me," Pam signed in reply. She brushed the underside of her jaw with her thumb then with her first and middle finger ran down her chin, "I'm not cute yet."

Jim smiled and spun his index finger in a circle, then tapped his own chin with his first two fingers, "You're always cute."

Pam smiled back and Jim leaned down to kiss her. She signed that she needed a few minutes so he should go ahead downstairs, and Jim reluctantly left her in bed to head to the dining room.

When Angela set down a plate of boiled beet slices in front of Jim, he smiled wide to stop his lip from curling and signed "Thank you." One farming lesson he had unfortunate learned was beets grow fast enough to get two crops a year, so the shelf downstairs had been replenished with jars of crimson and breakfast once again consisted of too many of the earthy-tasting vegetable. Even Pam, who tolerated beets far better than Jim, seemed to hit her limit the last week or so, nibbling at best on breakfast everyday.

Jim looked up from his plate as Angela served Dwight and felt his eyebrows meet. They seemed to have been better recently, more interaction, especially in sign, more doing chores in the same vicinity. Yet Angela all but dropped the plate in front of Dwight, looking away before he could sign "thanks". Dwight pressed his lips together and looked down to his plate, avoiding Jim's widened eyes.

After a few bites, Pam finally arrived downstairs and Angela popped up to fetch her breakfast. Pam waved her hands to get Angela's attention. "Just a little bit please," she signed. Angela scowled but nodded and the plate she set in front of Pam had about half the usual amount of food.

"Did you reached your beet quota?" Jim signed.

Pam smiled briefly and lifted her hands, "I guess so."

Jim reach across the table to give her hand a squeeze, the too-large fake engagement ring she still wore everyday digging into his palm. He looked back towards Angela and Dwight and held one hand up flat, palm toward him, and moved his other hand down his open plan, like a list. "What's today's agenda?"

Angela put two closed fists together and made a circle. "Laundry. You have anything?" Jim signed that he would bring laundry down after breakfast and Angela looked to Pam, " _You_ have anything?"

Pam said no and Angela stared at her for a moment before looking back to her plate. Jim instantly shot Pam a "what's that about?" look, and Pam just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"How about you?" Jim asked Dwight, and Dwight set down his fork.

"Supply run," Dwight said. Angela abruptly stood up and left the table with her half-eaten meal. Pam and Jim watched her with raised eyebrows, but then Dwight continued. "Pam, you hold onto the radio-"

"Can I go with you?" Pam interrupted.

Dwight frowned for a moment, then looked to Jim, "I suppose you can handle the radio."

Jaw clenched, Jim nodded then shifted his eyes to Pam. It had been nearly two months since they saw the silencer, she had gone on fishing trips since then but a supply run to the nearest town meant going nearly twice as far. And Pam volunteered so quickly. She looked to him and smiled before signing, "I'll be fine, plus Angela is in a mood and I want to be far away."

That made Jim chuckled, "I get that." He remember the bag in his pocket. "I have plenty of chores so I should be able to avoid laundry."

"Like she would let you do the laundry," Pam retorted with a smirk.

Once Jim was equipped with the radio and an overly detailed hand-written guide of how to use it and what common acronyms stood for , Pam and Dwight slipped on their backpacks and set off. Jim watched them all the way to the road, waving when Pam turned back to him.

He retrieved the laundry from their room and headed outside. Angela and Pam's exchange about the laundry entered his mind briefly, it was an odd moment and Pam seemed uncomfortable. But it was probably just Angela being Angela and Jim stopped thinking about it by the time he reached Angela's wash station. She was already scrubbing away on her washboard, and Jim smiled, recalling when he and Pam first discovered Angela used such board and Pam signing to him, _"What century is this?"_

Jim set his canvas laundry bag down and Angela nodded. Chewing his lip, Jim figured it was only polite to offer assistance. He make a thumbs-up with his hand and set it on the open palm of his other hand. "Need help?"

Angela sighed, and let the clothing in her hand fall into the tub. She mostly whispered with a couple signs. "Thank you for offering, it's just … I have a system and -"

Jim nodded, "Okay, if you need me, I'll be near the barn." Angela nodded and Jim walked off, laughing to himself about Pam being completely right.

In the barn, he walked back to the milking stall and reached up to the high shelf. There were a couple pieces of extra fine sandpaper which he slipped into his back pocket. He slipped his hand into his front pocket and pulled out the small bag, emptying its contents on his palm. It was a ring, silver band with a small polished pebble soldered on.

* * *

After the silencer sighting at the river, they were a little apprehensive in their room, giving each other a kiss goodnight but hesitating to go further. For a week or so it was like this, until Pam purposefully held him closer after their goodnight kiss, biting her lip as her hand traveled down his chest, then tugging on the waistband of Jim's shorts.

The morning after he woke spooning her, his arm over her shoulder, his knees nestle behind hers. He lifted his arm gently, preparing to roll away when she stirred. It took him far to long to realize the movement of her hips was entirely intentional. Jim propped himself up on his elbow and tried to peer past her hair to her face, and it wasn't difficult to spot her wicked little smile. He grinned then pressed his lips to her neck and his hand reached up to caress her curves. Then he let his hand traveled down, over her smooth stomach and then further still.

They lay still as they both were coming down, him just holding her, feeling both their breath slow. Pam then slowly rolled towards him, her hair a mess, her eyes still heavy with sleep and a big smile on her face. She was so beautiful. "I can't believe I found you," he whispered, futilely trying to brush a wild curl off her cheek.

"I found _you_ ," she whispered back sleepily and he chuckled softly. She did indeed find him, wandering up his cabin that one day last fall. More than that she brought him back to life. He had spent months just existing, finding food, doing chores, going to bed, repeat. He never seriously considered ending at all but would lie awake in bed he contemplated what exactly the point was.

She rested her left hand on the mattress near her face and began to doze off, and he brought his hand up and started tracing her fingers, especially the third one.

* * *

There's a tug at his pant leg and Jim is brought back to the present, looking down to see Hilde gnawing at the fabric, her tag wagging wildly. She had wandered into the barn from her paddock, clearly thinking he was going to give her food. With a silent chuckle, Jim squatted down, holding the ring near Hilde's nose. "What do you think?" he signed to the goat.

Hilde took a couple sniffs but once she determines the ring wasn't edible, she started to walk back outside. A moment later Jim followed, crossing a grass field to the other paddock where Hans grazed. Jim walked to the far side of the fence and took a seat on the grass, pulling the sandpaper out of his pocket and holding up the ring.

After watching her put on the gaudy overly-large ring for the hundredth time, he decided it was time to find her something new, something that matched her better, and perhaps most importantly something that was his.

Not far up the road from the farm was an small antiques store. Jim spotted the knocked over sign on a supply run and one day managed to sneak off to the shop in hopes of finding materials. He maneuvered carefully through the crowded shop, finding a jewelry case and grabbing anything that was round from it. Back at the farm, he sorted through the vintage rings, a couple had stone settings he liked but all seemed to be a little too large or too small. There was an alternative, a pair of simple silver hoop earrings, easily adjusted to any size. Over the next week, he would steal away a block of time and head to the basement where Dwight had tools for electronic equipment that sufficiently doubled as jewelry tools. He used a metal saw to cut a stone setting off one of the rings as well as to cut down a hoop earring. With pliers he pulled the gemstone out of its setting and closed up the earring to a ring sized loop, sealing it up and attaching the empty stone setting with a soldering iron.

There was a small creek on the edge of the farm, too small to fish but good to fetch water from, and one water trip Jim scoured the creek bed looking for smooth pebbles and found a small white stone. After a lot of polishing, he placed the shiny white pebble in the setting, bending the prongs back down with pliers.

Now it was a matter of giving it to her. He had fussed with and polished it a little every day for the past several days, but the time never seemed quite right. And in all honestly a small part of him was afraid. It was unreasonable, they were committed to each other in every way possible, in Dwight and Angela's eyes they were already engaged, but actually asking her was still somehow a scary prospect.

Running the fine sandpaper over the soldered joint of the ring, he heard a soft snort behind his head and looked to see Hans right there, sniffing the air. Smiling, Jim turned around and held up the ring. "How should I ask her?" he signed as a joke. Hans responded by nipping at his fingers and Jim jerked his hand away, the ring flying right out and into the grass. Jim sighed and frowned at the goat, who just tilted his head before running away. Thankfully Jim had polished the ring up enough that it glinted in the sun and he found it in short order. The stone setting was under his thumb pad when he picked it up, and he felt a sharp edge. A closer look and Jim could see one of the prongs was sticking up, he would need pliers to smooth it back down.

Walking back to the house, Jim saw sheets billowing from the cloth-lines but no Angela. She was also not in the kitchen or living room when he entered so he figured she must be upstairs. He gently opened the door to the basement and started down the staircase. Once passed the hum of the refrigerator he heard shaky breathing and stopped. Angela was faced mostly away from him, her small body shaking with what appeared to be quiet sobs, her arms clinging to something knitted and blue.

Jim felt frozen, unsure if he should walk over to her or just turn around and go right back upstairs. Wiping her eyes, Angela turned her head slightly and gasped when she caught sight of Jim.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-" Jim started whispering, but Angela waved her hand a little while shaking her head. She turned back around, gazing at nothing in particular and Jim was facing the stairs with his hand on the railing when he took a breath and walked towards Angela.

When Jim was next to her, she jerked her head to him and Jim was expecting a curt "what do you want" or even a "go away" but she just watched him pull up a chair and sit next to her. He saw the knitted blue fabric was a blanket, and her hand the photo he spotted his very first day at Schrute Farms, Angela smiling wide with a little blond boy.

They sat silently for what felt like a long time before Angela inhaled deeply, "His name is Ben." Jim eyes flicked up to her face but she was focused on the picture. "Today is his fifth birthday. Would have been." she whispered with a sniff, her eyes filling with tears again.

Ignoring the sting behind his own eyes, Jim smiled, "He's beautiful."

Angela's eyes snapped to his and to his surprise she smiled. "He was such a good little boy. He loved animals, the goats were his favorite. he would to watch them play and laugh, he had the sweetest laugh." Angela cast her eyes down and her chin trembled, "We tried to protect him when the demons first came through, kept him inside while Dwight dealt with the animals. Ben asked where all the goats were and…" She sniffed. "I told him there was another farm where they could run and play more so they went there. And he just said it sound nice and he hoped he could visit them one day," she said with a laugh.

Jim chuckled, and Angela lowered her eyes to the photo again.

"He stayed so quiet. Mose, Dwight's cousin, he carved Ben wooden animals and Ben was so good when he played with them. Kept them on a blanket, moved them so carefully." Angela smiled, but it faded quickly. "It was sunny, we were all outside harvesting, doing our chores. Mose was carving and Ben was with him playing. I passed them and Ben had dozed off, a little wooden animal in his hand. I was going set my basket by the house and then come back and carry him to bed. When I got the house…" She inhaled shakily. "He must have had a bad dream. He woke up crying, calling for me. Mose tried to quiet him but Ben kept crying. I dropped my basket and ran towards him. But the demon… and when I tried to scream, there was a hand on my mouth, arm around my waist pulling me back." She sniffed and shook her head. "Dwight was right do it, nothing could have been done, it's just…" she looked up to Jim with red eyes, "he stopped me from going with my son."

Jim felt an ache in his chest, he knew a little about survivor's guilt, the pain of wondering daily if he could have done anything to save his family, only surpassed by the pain of knowing that he couldn't. Angela must have felt that ten-fold, with the added anger of Dwight subduing her, interfering with her deepest, strongest instincts to protect her child. And Dwight felt this all too, Jim was sure, the guilt and the pain. Leaning forward, Jim took Angela's hand. "He misses you, so desperately."

"I miss him too," Angela sobbed softly. "But sometimes I look at him and that day comes back, so strongly. Things just feel … broken, and I don't know how to fix it."

"I think … you have to try to forgive him." Jim gave her hand a squeeze, "And you have to try to forgive yourself."

She looked at him one again, eyes wet and worried and lips trembling, ready to blurt out that she couldn't. He nodded, _you can_ , he said silently.

They sat without words for several minutes until Angela stopped sniffling. She finally pulled her hand from his and sat up straight. "I have laundry to do still, and I need to start dinner." She stood and carefully folded the blue blanket. "I imagine you still have chores, why were you down here anyway?"

Jim felt his brows shoot up on his forehead, "Oh, I needed some pliers."

Angela's eyes narrowed, "For what?"

Jim stifled a chuckled, actually a little bit happy that Angela was returning to her normal self. "Just, for something in our room."

She was clearly still skeptical but gave a firm nod. Once she was couple paces away, she turned back. "I appreciate you sitting with me."

Jim smiled and give a shrug, then remembered something and caught Angela before she was too far up the steps. "Hey, do you think you can go easy on the beets with Pam's dinner? I think she's having a little stomach issue, and beets seem to put her off."

"Yes, I've noticed Pam not feeling well, especially in the mornings." Angela said with a look not unlike the one she gave Pam at breakfast. Jim knitted his brows, unsure what to say, but Angela shook her head. "Yes, of course, I'll make her something light." She turned abruptly and Jim shrugged off the odd exchange and went back to the workbench for pliers.

Dwight and Pam returned from their supply run without incident and the four sat down to dinner. Angela and Dwight were still about as quiet as they were at breakfast, but Angela was at least not so obviously avoiding Dwight's eyes. Jim looked to Pam, whose appetite seemed to be improved from the morning, and signed with his hand low. "You were right about Angela not letting me near the laundry."

Pam smirked and gave her best "told ya so" look. Jim laughed silently and eyed the ring on her finger again. She would have a new one, very soon, he thought.

After dinner, Pam decided to take a bath, so Jim was up alone upstairs He washed his face, trimming his beard a bit, and tidied up the room, folding clothes and rearranging the dresser. The door was ajar, and one time when he glanced up he saw a flash of blonde pass by. He walked closer to the door, careful not to appear to be watching, and could see Angela at Dwight's room. He saw Dwight notice her and walk over quickly. They stared at each other a while and then Angela took a step forward, into Dwight's room. The door carefully shut behind her and Jim couldn't help but smile to himself.

Out of things to put away or straighten, Jim stood looking around nervously. _Music_ , he thought, and rushed over to his backpack. The CD player still had some battery, and Jim thumbed through his small collection of discs, wondering what would be a nice song.

A shadow fell over him and he spun his head and smiled when he saw it was Pam in the doorway, hair wet and a robe wrapped around her. But the smile quickly faded when he realized her eyes were shiny, her chest heaving. He stood and rushed over to her, "What is it?" he mouthed.

Pam's bit her lip and she pulled something out of pocket of her robe. When she opened her hand Jim saw a flat, white plastic stick, in the middle an oval display with two crisp vertical lines. His eyes darted back up to her face, and her chin trembled. She made a circle with her fist on her chest. "I'm sorry."

Jim shook his head, hating that she felt she had to say "sorry". In any other circumstance this would be the happiest news of his life. She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs and he quickly pulled her into an embrace.

"What am I gonna do?" she whispered over and over into his chest, his shirt becoming wet with her tears.

"We're gonna figure it out," he murmured. He pulled back a little and tilted her face to his. "I'm here. We're gonna figure it out together." He cupped her cheek and wiped the tears away with her thumb. "I'm here."

With wide green eyes, she searched his face, and he keep his gaze steady on her until the corner of her mouth lifted. She rested her head back on his chest and he hugged her tightly.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, "I'm going to protect you." He could feel her relax slightly in his arms, her breathing becoming more steady. His words were working and helping her become calm, helping him stay calm.

But in truth, he had no idea what they were going to do.


End file.
